life is but a dream
by onlywordsnow
Summary: they're not just friends, they're best friends so they decide to have and raise a baby together, just as friends
1. if it was easy i'm sure we'd all have it

**a/n (p1): mark and addison have never been together, addison and derek were married but aren't anymore, and there will be multiple ships in this but it is primarily mark/addison, some (okay, a lot or even _most_) of the history is different**

**a/n (p2): read anything by lynn ( sliceofperfection ) and you won't regret it; my personal fav is sick cycle carousal **

* * *

Addison Montgomery likes the nursery. It's her favorite part of the entire hospital and she's glad that she gets to spend a lot of her time at work there. She finds it soothing to watch the chests of newborns rise and fall as they take their very first breaths, listening to the sound of crying entwining with the other newborns in the room, and the steady sound of their heartbeats when she presses the wide end of her stethoscope to their chests.

She loves the smell of their skin (not that she's smelling random babies but there is a distinct smell when she enters the room), and the way that they are so little that they should be labeled with things such as _handle with care_ and _fragile_. She loves how precious every sound they make echoes throughout the room and the easy smiles that are on their parent's faces when they get to see them for the first time. She doesn't know what her favorite thing about a newborn is.

What she does know is that they are innocent, untainted by the world.

Today, she's on the outside looking in, shoulder to shoulder with Mark Sloan. She can't help the smile painted on her face, overwhelmed with emotion - a feeling of pure joy and excitement on her ex-husband's behalf as he welcomes his child into the world. Even though it isn't her child, she is still happy for him despite the fact that it isn't the way she would have predicted her future.

Regardless, she taps her shoulder against Mark's as his eyes meet hers and he says, "He's pretty cute, if you ask me. Do you think Derek will name him after me?"

She laughs, replies, "no."

"Awe, that's no fun. I think Mark is a good name. Everyone should know someone named Mark," he counters.

"That's why we keep you around," she says with a smirk.

"Haha," he mocks with exaggerated effort. Their gaze breaks in synchronization and shifts to the baby behind the glass in the bed labeled Shepherd, and she releases a breath she didn't know she was holding. She has to admit, it is a rather adorable baby; her thoughts are interrupted by the sound of a pager and she's relieved when it isn't hers. "Don't quit your day job, Red."

"How could I give this up?" She agrees with a small yet genuine smile.

"Hey, I'll catch you later," he says.

She nods as she hears the plastic snap back together when he holsters his pager back into place, her eyes remaining firm on the baby. The sound of his footsteps echo from further and further down the hall as the distance between them becomes greater; he always was heavy-footed but she always knows when he's approaching her that way. In Mark's absence, baby watching just isn't as fun - it's something they've been doing together since they were interns.

She can't help thinking though that this isn't enough for her anymore, just watching babies from the other side of the glass.

* * *

Derek smiles upon seeing his tired wife, lights of the hospital room dimmed so she can rest if she wants to. He tilts his head as walks gently in her direction, approaching her with caution because he isn't sure what hurts or where. He knows all about deliveries because he was married to Addison for so long, but he doesn't know much about the after.

"Hey, honey," he says, slipping an arm around her as he sits on the side of the bed, "you did good. You tired?"

"Like you wouldn't believe," she replies with a small smile, "I really like the name you picked out. Zachary Alan Shepherd has a nice ring to it."

"It was my dad's name and he's a beautiful baby."

Meredith laughs a little, quietly so she doesn't expel too much energy, "hopefully he has your hair."

* * *

Addison tests the door to see if it's unlocked before having to dig through her purse for her keys, and she's relieved to find that it's unlocked which is an instant indication that someone else is already home. She pushes the door open, steps in, and immediately closes it behind her as she kicks off her 3-inch heels beside the front door. Tucking her hair behind her ear, she pushes herself back upright as she points her ear towards the living room, listening to what is playing from the television.

She can't tell what it is by listening but she thinks if she can get a look at the screen she might be able to determine what's on, not that it really matters anyway because she isn't really in the mood for people or television or dealing with anything or anyone. She's been asking herself for the last half hour how the day could start so well and go so badly, so quickly.

"Hey," Mark greets from the couch, a half-grin on his lips as he glances at her from the television.

She outwardly groans as she drops onto the couch beside him, cuddling into his side. He immediately wraps his arm around her shoulder, no questions asked, just gives her exactly what she needs without her having to voice what the problem is. She finds it relieving that her best friend is always there for her, knows her moods and knows when not to push her; she loves him unconditionally for that and he therefore never falls under the category as people.

"Everything okay, Red?"

She sighs and then pulls back to look him in the eye, pursing her lips; she lightly shakes her head, the only person who she can ever admit that she isn't okay to looking her in the eye, "it never gets any easier."

"Tell me what's going on, babe," he implores.

He says it with ease, the way he's been saying it for nearly 20 years. There's both comfort and understanding in his eyes; it's the familiarity about him that she loves the most, the way she knows he will never hurt her. He's the only person who makes her happy without trying; the only one who treats her same every day and in every situation, and it makes her feel so secure that he is her best friend.

She doesn't know how to put into words everything that she's feeling, the way that one minute she was staring at 18 hour old Zachary, finding him so very beautiful, and the next 3 week old Jacob was dying on her table. He had underdeveloped lungs due to being born prematurely and despite everything they tried; he just wasn't going to make it. As if that wasn't enough, 3 hour old Brandon passed away in his mother's arms while his mother's salty tears fell on his cold cheeks. Not to mention the stillborn she delivered and the mother in a car accident that put her twins in danger.

Some days, her specialty is just too much to handle, at least all in one day. She swallows, "I just lost a lot of patients today."

"I'm sorry, Red. Kids are tough but you can't win them all. You're the best in the entire country. If anyone could have saved them, it's you," he replies.

"Thanks," she smiles a little; she slides are arms around his chest and leans into him, feeling safe when he automatically wraps his arms around her, "I'm so glad you're here, Mark."

He chuckles into her hair, his lips fused together as he drags his fingertips through her auburn locks. She lingers with her head against his chest, her ear hovering over his heart as the rhythmic pattern of the beat lulls her into a semi-peaceful state. She wishes she could always feel like this. Thanks to Mark moving in with her and out of the hotel when she and Derek finally agreed that they needed to split, she doesn't have to feel so alone; Derek wasn't thrilled with the idea, but he understood that they both needed the other's friendship in a way that was beyond him so he accepted it with a smile.

"Did you eat?" He pries.

"No, I'm not really hungry," she replies, "I think I'm just going to go to bed."

"Okay," he agrees with a small yet reassuring smile. He watches her get up off of the couch and disappear down the hallway, her frame a silhouette in the darkness, and his gaze stays trained on her. He thinks he can see the blue orbs of her iris looking back at him and that's when he shows her his teeth, parted lips. "Let me know if you need anything."

"Okay," she absently agrees, "good night, sweetie."

* * *

Mark Sloan has always been on the outside looking in. Not in the wildly understood sense of the phrase, no. He isn't like one of those people locked out in the cold, teeth chattering and bones rattling as he looks in a window to gaze upon a perfect family. He's more like a person who is always inside, part of what's going on, but it's never happening directly to him.

He feels that he is relatively non-existent, like if he weren't present when something important happened, no one would really miss him. Deep down, he knows that no one thought about him. Sure, there's Derek who is practically his brother (not to mention Carolyn Shepherd who would fly to Seattle in a heartbeat to put him in the place if need be, but someone would have to care enough to tattle on him to her), and of course there is Addison who always seems to be around when he expects everyone to leave.

But, he thinks it's bigger than that. He isn't saying Derek and Addison aren't enough. Hell, the thought has never even crossed his mind. Moreover, he doesn't think anyone really needs him.

At one point, maybe Addison did. Maybe she did. But maybe she didn't. He's never really asked; to be honest, he's too afraid to hear the answer.

It could stem from the days when he thought maybe he was in love with his best friend's fiancée, when he stood at the end of the aisle beside Derek as Addison carried herself in their direction, her arm looped through The Captain's. For a brief moment, he maybe even imagined that it was him she was marrying. He quickly convinced himself that what he felt for her wasn't love, not the way Derek felt for her, but it was admiration and friendship.

_Just having her at all is enough_, he'd reminded himself.

In the end, he had been rooting for them to work things out but at least the dissolution of their marriage was all their own. He was saddened, to say the least, because they were both his best friends. Nothing scared him more than thinking that in the end, he'd have to pick sides, but Derek looked him in the eye and said, "You'll always be my brother and she'll always be my friend."

Mark had simply smiled because it was everything he'd needed to hear.

When they started over, they sold all of their shared property. Derek bought some land in the middle of nowhere and a tin can for a trailer that he was more than happy to live in. Addison bought an apartment, 3 bedrooms, whispering to him while no one else was listening that she was just trying to envision the future and he admired her hope but feared that she was setting herself up for heartbreak. He was left living in a hotel for almost 4 months before Addison asked him to move in - teasing him, calling him _roomie_ until he eventually agreed.

He's lost track of time - can't tell if they've been roommates for months or years because it's all a blur. But as he sees everyone around him evolving in their lives - Derek and Meredith having a baby, Callie and Arizona trying to adopt, Pete and Violet with a 2 year old Lucas - he's beginning to feel like he's missing out. He supposed that he can always borrow Zachary for the afternoon in a few months; maybe that will be enough.

Derek lets Mark hold Zachary for the first time as Meredith takes a nap on their first afternoon home from hospital. He'd been weary at first, he'd never really held a baby before and hadn't seen Derek's nieces or nephews much except for at Christmases or Thanksgiving and he wasn't about to hog the baby holding time when so many other people wanted to hold them. There was the one time Nancy asked him if he wanted to hold one of the kids, he can't even remember which one of them it was, while they were alone in a room but he politely declined.

With Zachary in his arms, Mark feels the beginning of completion, like watching the baby's chest rise and fall with each breath and his lips in a pout is the most amazing thing he's ever seen in his lifetime. His eyes shift to Derek for just a moment and he can almost see a flash of pride on his face; Mark absently wonders if that's the look of fatherhood or something else. His fingertips trail along Zachary's face as the baby's eyes flutter closed.

He swallows, clears his throat a little bit, and says, "Do you think I'd make a good father?"

"I wasn't aware that you wanted children," Derek replies carefully. Mark immediately offers Derek his kid back and settles back into the couch, almost wishing he'd never spoken at all. Derek smiles softly as he cradles Zachary, "I think you can do anything you put your mind to, Buddy."

"Yeah?" He registers with a genuine grin. His wrists settle on his knees as he slightly tilts his head, almost afraid to look Derek in the eye. It takes him a few moments of steady breathing before his eyebrows furrow and he slides his palms together. "I just always thought, I don't know, that I'd end up alone."

"Why would you think that?"

"Because I've just always been alone, I guess," he replies with a sigh.

"Hardly," Derek replies with a snort of disapproval, "you've always had me, and you have Addison. We are your friends. I don't know how you could think you'd end up alone. Besides, you haven't ended up. You aren't _dead_."

Mark pity smirks at Derek's attempted joke; "Addison and I aren't going to be having a family together though. I love her, she's my best friend -" Derek clears his throat, he corrects, "- one of my best friends, but I doubt she'd want to have a baby with me. Would you want to have a baby with me?"

Mark laughs playfully.

"Sure," Derek replies with a grin, "got one all fresh and ready to go."

Mark's lips tug upwards but his fingers return to playing with a loose thread on his black slacks; one thing he's learning is that he has to figure a few things out, and fast.

* * *

Alex Karev smirks as he sees Lexie Grey from across the resident's locker room, knowing that when she catches his grin she's liable to smile too. He quickly snaps the back of his hand against Jackson's bare shoulder in an attempt to get his friend to look at him. Jackson turns his gaze in Alex's direction with eyebrows raised causing Alex to do a quick head nod.

"Dude, we still going out tonight?" Alex asks with a small grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Uh," Jackson starts, lifting a hand to scratch his eyebrow as he reaches into his locker for his gray, cotton t-shirt from early in the morning, "I don't know, man, I've been telling Lexie I'd take her to dinner. Maybe later."

"All right," Alex says with a shrug; he knows that eventually it will all catch up with him, but for now he's going to live in the moment.

* * *

"Hey, honey," Addison says teasingly as comes up behind him in the kitchen; he's making breakfast for what looks like one when she comes out of her bedroom to the enticing smell of bacon.

"Good morning, buttercup," he teases in return. He feels her arms wrap around his waist and slide up his torso which prompts a grin. Leaning back, he turns his head so he can press a fleeting kiss against her temple. "Want breakfast?"

"Uh," she hesitates.

He laughs and lightly shakes his head, turning his attention back to his task of cooking, "too bad, I'm making you breakfast. You and I both know that if I don't, you'll just be stealing from my plate."

"You know me too well," she concedes with a deep, all-consuming sigh.

She makes idle movements around him in the somewhat spacious kitchen, not that it's really used all that often because they are quite fond of take out. On occasion, he cooks because he's more willing to wash dishes than she is and he likes the element of surprise (even though they wholeheartedly agree that there isn't anything exciting about surprises beyond the joy of delivering the surprise), but she still refuses to cook the few things he once insisted were fantastic despite his efforts in offering to clean afterwards. She always says she's too tired; she's found herself helping him cook more recently though.

"Orange juice," she asks, reaching into the fridge. She moves around him, mere inches between them as they have silently mastered the art of moving around each other in smaller spaces. He's already gotten two glasses down when she gets to the other side of him, and she takes it as an answer. Pouring them both glasses, she says, "you were out late."

"Uh, yeah," he replies absently, "Derek and I were hanging out. You know, guy stuff."

"Right," she replies with a smirk, "Zachary's cute."

"Yeah, I guess," he says with a shrug. She tries not to gauge his interest in the conversation, deeming it as a front for a guy who has never really said much about babies. She feels him shift his gaze in her direction and smirk. "We were trying to remember all of the things we used to do as kids."

"Don't teach him all of the things you used to do as a kid," she counters; she lifts an accusing finger and pushes it in his direction, "Derek's mom used to tell me about all of the things you did like putting the frog in the microwave."

"I didn't press start," he replies, deadpanned.

"Yeah, well, when I have kids, you are not corrupting them," she says without thinking; the comment just brings on a rush of sadness that she can't escape.

He must notice because he furrows his eyebrows and slightly tilts his head, "you okay, Red?"

"I'm fine," she says with a breath of air, "I just think all of this baby talk lately has gotten my biological clock ticking."

"It'll happen. Maybe not right now, but soon," he replies reassuringly. He offers her a tight smile as he turns his attention from the food and steps towards her. He wraps his arms around her middle and pulls her towards him, his lips pressing into her forehead. He mutters against her skin, "you'll be a great mom and you'll have the most perfect children."

She lets his words soak in and she buys into them because he's never really given her reason not to.

* * *

"Have you heard from your sisters?"

Mark's nose scrunches up as he overhears a familiar voice when he opens the front door to Meredith and Derek's house and follows Addison inside. He grins upon an hesitant recognition of who the voice belongs to, knowing that Carolyn Shepherd has finally arrived. His fingers lightly touch the small of Addison's back as he guides into the living room and in the direction of the voice.

"She's here," he comments somewhat excitedly to Addison.

"Finally," his roommate and best friend volleys back, "it seems like it's been forever since we've seen her."

"I know, right?" He agrees absently. He barely rounds the corner before Derek's mom catches the sight of him and her face lights up like a Christmas tree. He moves around Addison, his hip brushing passed hers as he takes a wider step to get to the visitor first. "Hey, mom."

"Hey, Kid," she mutters back as she buries her face into his neck, her arms wrapped around him as he pulls her into a huge. It's a nickname that Nancy started when they were only 6, always pointing at him when he was hanging around Derek and asking _does this kid ever talk_ or _who's this kid?_ One day, Derek's mother finally intervened and said, words firm, _the **kid** is welcome any time he wants_; it prompted a huge grin to slide across his mouth and make him stand a little straighter. "How have you been?"

"Good," he replies with a nod; he grins and that's when Addison sees a hint of a twinkle in his eyes, "did you see Zachary yet?"

"I did," Carolyn says with a smile of approval.

Mark nearly releases a squee, "Derek let him hold him."

Addison can't contain her laughter, even though she attempts to stifle it behind her hand. She knows his knowledge of babies is limited both in personal life and in professional, but she can't help finding his excitement over Zachary adorable. Addison nearly quirks an eyebrow when Derek's mother finds a moment to shift her attention away from Mark and towards her but instead steps forward to insert herself between them.

It doesn't take long before they are all watching Zachary's movements with intent, each bat of the eyelash the most beautiful they've ever seen (until the next one), and Meredith seems to fit into the role of motherhood a lot better than she'd once told Addison she thought she would. Addison doesn't forget when Meredith nearly broke down into tears and said she didn't think she could be a mother, but Derek was going to be an excellent father and he deserved that opportunity. Addison had just told her ex-husband's new wife to give it time; she thinks motherhood looks good on Meredith.

Hours later, Addison pushes herself to her feet, calves flexing on her heels, and disentangles her hand from Mark's grasp so she can follow Meredith up the stairs to put Zachary down for a nap. Leaving just Derek and Mark with Derek's mom, Mark offers her a smile and a heavy sigh as Derek starts picking various toys up off of the floor. Carolyn Shepherd sits down beside Mark and leans into him.

"So, are you and Addison," she trails off, asking an open ended question.

Derek laughs and it prompts Mark to offer her a tight smile.

"Nothing like that," he insists gently, "just friends, roommates, friends."

"Oh, please, she's your best friend," Derek chimes in mockingly.

"Shut up, you're my best friend," Mark corrects. He releases a heavy hearted sigh, wondering if he should even bother trying to explain what he and Addison have. It isn't like they are anything or are ever going to be anything. They are just close and they talk and it's nice to get a woman's perspective, almost as nice as when she turns to him in need. "But, you know, she's Addison."

He tries to leave it at that, but Derek's mom adds, "Maybe she isn't just Addison to you."

He opens his mouth to refute but he is silenced by the sound of her heels descending the stairs.

* * *

Addison had always thought that one day, she'd have the beautiful baby with Derek's features - the beautiful hair, the piercing eyes, his shit eating grin - but that was just a naive dream. It was part of her 20 year plan, no from the start, but eventually. She didn't want to be the mom that Bizzy was and have a nanny raise her kids, so she wanted to be sure she was well established in her career before trying to have a baby.

She supposes her reluctance is the very thing that broke them apart. Or maybe it isn't. It's all just a blur now, mixed in with a life she wasn't expecting she'd have. She wishes now that she would have just gotten over her stubbornness and felt like it was time to have a baby because Derek _does_ make beautiful children.

But that's Meredith's life now and she's living hers differently than she'd imagined. Sure, she still has Derek and his family and Mark even, but sometimes she feels so lost and empty. She feels like the life she wanted is out of her grasp that she'll never have a husband and kids when she's always wanted to be a mother, but she's beginning to think that it just isn't in the cards for hers. She doesn't necessarily _need_ a husband, but she'd always kind of pictured her kid(s) having a magnificent father that she is totally enamored by.

She's forty now (almost 41, Mark would remind with a playful jab) and she doesn't have much time left, not for making decisions about her family's future. If it's decisions that need to come to a head, it's ones like measuring the importance of a husband or if she'd be happy just having a baby. She is making decisions every day though without even really thinking about it; she's been thinking about it for a long time.

She feels her face scrunch in an almost pained expression, wondering aloud, "do you think our kids would have been that beautiful?"

Mark nearly chokes on his spit, his fingers stilling on her skin, resting somewhere between her knee and her pelvis with the light from the television bouncing off of the walls; "do you mean..."

"If Derek and I had children," she says with more clarification, turning her gaze away from him. They haven't been married for 3 years, she shouldn't be letting the idea creep back into her thoughts after all of this time. She sighs, finding the courage to lock eyes with him again, "do you think they'd be as beautiful as Zachary?"

"More so," he replies, straight face; she can see a hint of a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, "they'd be a part of you, of course they'd be beautiful."

She smiles, tilting her head slightly, "don't lie to me."

"I'm not lying," he says in mock defense, hands up and fingers spread apart as he lightly shakes his head. He smirks and leans his head against the back of the couch, his cheek resting on the cushion so he can look at her. "No one else compares."

"Then how come you've never made a move on me?" She challenges.

"Because you were my best friend's girl and then you were my best friend," he answers gently. She shifts a little, her legs draped over his waist, and the back of her thigh grazes over his middle. He becomes acutely aware of her movements, the closeness of her skin, the heat that she's giving off; he swallows hard. "That doesn't make you any less beautiful."

She tilts her head away from him as she feels her cheeks flush, not sure how to take his compliment. Finally, she shifts her gaze back to him, his eyelids closed but head still tilted in her direction. She lifts her hand and slides her fingers over his hairline, a motion that has taken place many times before; she rolls hers lips, tucking her bottom lip between her teeth before clearing her throat.

"I want a baby, Mark."

"Me too," he admits, slowly peeling an eye open. She wonders if he would tell her if he weren't half asleep, if he would admit that he wants a kid. She doesn't know if he wants a wife, assumes that he isn't dating anyone because he spends most of his time away from the hospital with her. He laughs a little, voice tired and somewhat sarcastic, "we should just have a baby together."

"You're joking."

He peels his eye open again, "nah, I'd love to have a baby with you, Red."

* * *

"It isn't that simple, Callie," Arizona almost yells, her voice wavering, "not everything is as simple as we want it to be."

"But maybe it is. Isn't it a conversation worth having?" Callie challenges.

"We've discussed having a baby over and over and over and I can't talk about it anymore. I want to be with you, so much, more than anything, but I don't think U can handle the stipulations of _only if we are going to have a baby_," she replies. Arizona releases a heavy sigh, lifting her hand to swipe at her forehead in a futile attempt to contain her composure. She looks Callie directly in the eye, "if what you're waiting for is me to just change my mind, don't hold your breath."

"Fine," Callie bites with finality.

They both absently wonder if they're ever going to meet eye to eye.

* * *

Mark's half dazed and partially confused but he knows that what he'd said wasn't exactly what he'd meant to say. Sure, having a baby would be great, and having one with Addison would be even better, but was this really the order that he wanted to do things in. People had children all of the time without actually being married and co-parenting seems to work for a lot of people.

Truthfully, he's watched Pete and Violet's marriage slowly die and it may not even be because they are parents. It might be because of them, it might be because they just weren't meant to be together like Addison and Derek weren't. It might be for so many reasons unknown to him, but what he knows is that it's hard to watch - he couldn't imagine going through it.

When he and Derek decided to open a practice in Seattle, they didn't know what they were doing or why they were picking up their lives and moving them from New York. They were young enough to try it but old enough to know better; in the long run, they've both learned different lessons. So now their practice consists of quite a few different specialties, some that Mark can't help but laugh at (holistic specialist) and some that Derek can't help arguing with (psychiatrist).

He probably knows more people than he considers friends, which isn't really something that he'd mastered up until this point in his life. Aside from Derek (and Addison, respectively; it's funny how to him they are still _DerekandAddison_ in his head), he's never really had people who he considered friends. Derek has always had sisters who he considered family (Nancy, Kathleen, Amelia and Carol who were always there torment them as much as possible - it's like he grew up with 4 sisters) and he supposes he gets what it's like to have people to care about, but he doesn't know how to make relationships work appropriately.

He's never been good at the take, hardly can fathom how to give, but he sometimes gets lost in the in between of what people say and what people mean. He feels like people play word games and he doesn't always understand what people mean, but that isn't for lack of trying. He tries to understand, sometimes asks questions that other people think are stupid; he isn't stupid, by any means, he just doesn't like making assumptions.

He knows he's sarcastic and doesn't always say what he means, but that's because half of the time people don't bother to consider what he says.

He quirks his eyebrow as he leans back in his chair at the table in the cafeteria, crunching a chip between his teeth as Callie walks in his direction in a hurry. He wonders what her rush is, what could be making her as eager as he is to talk to someone - especially him. He smirks when she sits down, the metal from the legs of the chair grinding against the tile.

"Arizona is mad," Callie says to him, voice hurried and barely above a whisper, "so mad. Watch out."

"Lucky for me, our paths typically only cross on purpose," he comments, "what'd you do?"

"Me? What makes you assume it was me?" She counters, eyebrows raised. They sit in silence for a few moments as she plucks a chip from his basket, teeth crunching it much like his did as she was approaching. Finally, she pays mind to his facial expression, one that mimics disbelief. "Okay, I may or may not have brought up the baby issue - again."

"Again? Torres, I thought," he trails off, swallowing the chips. He lightly shakes his head, not really sure what to say because he isn't really one to talk and even more than that he doesn't really know what he's talking about. He sighs and laughs a little bit. "I don't know what I thought. How would you guys even get a baby anyway? Adopt or...?"

"There are lots of options, Mark. She and Alex have all of those orphans from Africa," she says with a shrug, stealing another chip; she smirks, "or we could steal your sperm."

"Addison and I may have decided to have a baby together," he replies, "I mean, I said something and she said something of agreement but I am not too sure how serious it all was."

"Do you want it to be serious?" Callie asks with furrowed eyebrows.

His eyes fall away, trace the edges of his food with his intense gaze as he ponders her question. In all honesty, there's no doubt in his mind that he wants it to be serious. To have a child that is part him and part Addison is perfect - not to mention, being a parent with his best friend sounds more than idea. Besides, they already live together and they know each other and what could really go wrong?

"Well, yeah. Why wouldn't I?" He remarks.

"I don't know, Mark," she starts, "babies complicate things. I mean, look at me and Arizona. All we are doing is trying to get through the baby discussion and it's been the hardest thing we've had to do in our entire relationship. And look at Cristina and Owen, they're split up right now because of the baby issue."

"Yeah, but we don't really have any _baby issues_ because we want the same things. We both want a baby and we don't have to go through all of the etiquette of getting to know someone because we already know each other and she's my best friend, Cal."

"I thought I was your best friend," she says, straight-faced.

His mouth hangs open for a moment, considering his rebuttal and what he could possibly say to her without hurting her feelings. He has more friends than he used to, is closer with them all than he had been with most acquaintances he'd ever had. He supposes they are all friends to him, close friends, in a way that he's glad he has them all, but they all help him communicate better than he had before.

"I don't know, Torres, we both want this. I don't know if we would have initially wanted it with each other, but we want it at the same time. Isn't that worth something?"

"I guess," Callie replies with a shrug; he can tell on her face that she's trying not to be judgmental.

A beat passes before he sees Addison out of the corner of his eye and she seats herself between them, muttering about a patient she has and how adorable her little cheeks are. He can't help but smile in response because seeing her light up over babies gives him enough reason to believe that it's all worth the risk. They all three reach for a chip from his pile at the same time and he teasingly glares at Callie for a moment before shoving his chips further from himself and closer to between them.

He supposes that if having a baby together does pan out, his life will be about making sacrifices for the people around him anyway.

* * *

"You sure you want a baby?"

He lifts his eyes from the box of nails on the floor that he's crouched beside, finally hanging up all of the pictures she'd asked him to hang up months ago, to see her eyes trained on him as she peers over her paper. They usually both have Sunday's off, usually go for a jog or exercise or do something at least seemingly productive just usually in the presence of the other. Since Zachary was born, they've seemed to use Sundays more for going over to Meredith and Derek's to huddle around their baby. He's almost certain that if they were to think about it, it would all be increasingly awkward given the complexity of the entire situation.

He lightly tilts his head, his gaze daring her to break eye contact with him first; when hers doesn't, he releases a deep sigh and moves his fingers through the metal in the box. He swallows, wondering if she's trying to tell him that she doesn't want to try anymore. He isn't really sure what to do with the situation.

"I didn't ever really think about having a family until recently," he admits, "and I'm kind of an idiot so if there's anyone who could help me be a great dad it's you. Besides, then you're stuck with me for life."

Addison quirks an eyebrow and he watches the corners of her mouth twitch as though she's fighting a smile; flattening out her newspaper, she says, "I think you'd make an excellent father, Mark. All you have to do is believe it."

"And if I don't?"

"It takes a village, honey," she replies softly.

His eyebrows furrow in response: "what?"

"Do you really think we're going to have the ability to raise a child without any help? We are both successful at our careers and neither of us is considering giving our jobs up just to have a fam-"

"I might," he interjects.

She laughs and attempts to stifle her laughter with her lips and teeth, but fails; "I'm so sure."

"I detect sarcasm," he counters, poker face, "okay, but I'm still not following."

"I want to be a mother more than anything in the world, but I can't do it alone," she explains, "I'm going to need you whether you are daddy or you're Uncle Mark. You have to decide which one you want to be."

He stands upright, looks her directly in the eye and says, "I want to be a dad."

She stands from the table to cross the room and lazily press her lips against his cheek before tucking herself into her bedroom for the next hour; he pretends like the remnants of her lips on his skin doesn't distract him from hammering the nail in properly.


	2. i've never asked you for a favor before

**a/n (p1): mark and addison have never been together, addison and derek were married but aren't anymore, and there will be multiple ships in this but it is primarily mark/addison, some (okay, a lot or even _most_) of the history is different**

**a/n (p2): read anything by lynn ( sliceofperfection ) and you won't regret it; my personal fav is sick cycle carousal **

* * *

Lexie closes her eyes so tight that she begins to see little crystals of light, fighting the urge tell whoever is at her bedroom door to fuck off. She'd silently hoped that when her sister and brother-in-law had Zachary that everyone else's invitation to live there would be revoked. Of course she should get a pass for being family, but Derek had insisted that the frat house would live because in just a few months the dream house would be finished and they'd move. She had smirked at him and asked which room was hers, but he just tapped her on the nose and told her that she was staying because it was bad enough Meredith had deemed one of the rooms Cristina's; when she'd half pouted he'd reminded her that she was a big girl.

She kicks Alex in the calf as she pulls the sheet up to her chin in an attempt to pull it from his grasp and wake him up, send him on his way before Jackson gets home from the night shift. She peels her eyes open and glances at the clock, the lights glowing numbers that indicates a time too early (or too late, her brain isn't quite functioning the way it needs to be yet). She grunts her protest when Alex rolls over, taking the blanket with him. The biggest sigh that she can muster falls out of her mouth and Alex expels an exaggerated breath in response.

"Alex," she hisses.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're annoying in the morning?" He counters.

She huffs, "get up, ass, go to your own bed."

"Nervous that your boyfriend," he's extra annoying and draws the word boyfriend out, "will walk in on us?"

She makes an incredulous face and her nose scrunches up in annoyance, "I hate you."

"That isn't what you said last night," he replies with a smirk.

She grits her teeth together, "now is not the time."

She hears something heavy fall onto the floor in the hallway and her heart stops because she knows this is about to be the end of everything. Jackson's shadow blocks the light from the hallway and tears begin to prick the corner of her eyes. She's slowly beginning to realize why no one will ever love her; she isn't used to being the fuck up.

* * *

Pete hears crying errupt through the baby monitor and he tries to lay very still so Violet doesn't get the idea that he's awake. He just stumbled in from pulling a volunteer overnight shift in the ER at Seattle Grace and he wants nothing more than to go to sleep right now. Unfortunately, he's been lying in the warm bed for the last hour thinking _if I could just fall asleep right now, or now_; his mind won't just shut off and sometimes that's what he hates the most about himself. He peels an eye open and spots Violet's still frame in the bed and he briefly wonders if she's playing the same game he is. Hopefully she'll concede first, just this once.

The crying only intensifies and he forces himself upright with an overdramatic groan - he thinks he sees the glassy orbs of Violet's tired eyes reflect in the darkness but he decides he'll get out of bed anyway. It isn't like she's quick to do much of anything beyond getting the hell out of sight. He doesn't mean to be so bitter but he's almost certain that marriage is not as easy as everyone else makes it out to be. Sometimes he sees himself in the mirror and isn't even sure that it's his reflection looking back. Marriage does things to people, that much he is sure of. He doesn't know the details of Addison and Derek's divorce, but if their marriage was anything like his is then he gets it.

The problem for him is that he doesn't give up - not even when he practically hates the woman he shares a bed with.

He hates the way the sheets are always warm. He hates the way she suggests things to him in a way that indicates she won't take any other answer than her own. And more than anything, he hates the way she says his name. They used to talk, back when they were friends, long before Lucas was born, but if there's anything worth putting up with all of the ridiculous shit for it's Lucas.

He'd do anything for his son.

* * *

Her hand slides into his in an attempt to still his bouncing knee. His fingers flex around hers only briefly before the pads of his fingertips press into his leg just above his kneecap. She can hear his breathing like it's the loudest thing in the room, the way his teeth dig into his bottom lip and the beads of sweat beginning to form at his hairline making her realize that he doesn't know the first thing about things like this.

"It's going to be okay," Addison reassures.

"Yeah?" He asks, clearly an unintentional question the way his lips form into an 'o'. He clears his throat and swallows all at the same time. Mark corrects, "yeah, I'm sure it will be fine. What is this appointment for anyway?"

"Just to be sure I can actually get pregnant," she answers.

His eyebrows furrow in confusion; he asks softly, "so, what am I here for?"

"Moral support," she says with an absent shrug. She sees him visibly relax, his knee no longer bouncing, and a breath of relief expelling from his lips. He offers her a half-hearted smile, the unspoken apology immediately understood. "I just thought you needed to be here, just in case they ask questions about things like medical history or if they want to take a sperm sample."

He shifts in his seat, "oh, yeah, _that_."

"I don't normally handle the getting pregnant part. I typically take care of after the mother is pregnant."

"So you're not just a knowledge bank? I was hoping you can iron out all of the details for me and we could high tail it out of this joint," he replies with a smirk. He's attempting to lighten the mood, mostly for himself, but she appreciates his efforts anyway. She mockingly narrows her eyes as he leans his shoulder against hers, lips mere inches from her ear. Barely above a whisper he adds, "we can always just go home and try to do this the old fashioned way."

She laughs, loudly, just before a nurse is calling her name out. They retreat to a room where a doctor is promised to arrive after blood is drawn; they always say doctors are the worst patients, and Mark makes that entirely too clear when he begins to pace as the nurse closes the door. She thinks the irony is that he isn't even really the patient.

"Would you sit down, damn it? You're starting to make me nervous," she says sharply with a swipe of her hand; her hand barely comes into contact with his shoulder.

He stops pacing and turns a sheepish grin in her direction, "sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry, just stop freaking out."

"I'm not freaking out," he insists.

She snorts, "yeah, sure seems like you're not. Mark, just trust me. Everything is fine and everything will be fine. You can hold my hand if it will make you feel better."

"Stop," he replies, deadpanned. He sits into the chair beside the table and he realizes that it's been a long time since he's actually been to the doctor. He leans back and purses his lips as he gazes at her for a few moments. He clucks his tongue; "I'm not being that bad."

She laughs just as the door opens. A dark man with a white lab coat comes in, clipboard in hand, and she wonders how long it's been since the nurse left because she was not expecting the doctor so soon. The doctor offers her a smile and she can see his white teeth, his khaki pants a little flashy compared to Mark's jeans; she reprimands herself for sizing him up just a little.

"Misses Montgomery?"

"Miss," she corrects, "and it's Addison.

She feels Mark's gaze burning a hole in the back of her head and she snaps her attention to him. She sighs as she adds, "and this is Mark."

"Nice to meet you doctor," Mark trails off and she thinks about what might be happening right now but allows it to transpire.

"Reilly, Jake Reilly," he finishes Mark's thought, "but you can call me Jake."

"Doctor is fine," Mark says; _oh no,_she thinks because she's pretty sure it's going to be a pissing contest from this point on.

"Naomi called me first thing Monday morning and said that I needed to give you my first available appointment. So, how can I help you today?" Jake leans back against the counter.

She feels Mark hover somewhat protectively, his fingertips resting close to her hip as he releases a breath that indicates she should take the lead in explaining things because he doesn't have a clue where to start. Twenty years of knowing someone allows the use of silent cues rather than speaking amongst a group of people; they've had countless conversations without words while surrounded by people. It's a relief in its own way even though Mark can be a bit overbearing at times - better than the days that he didn't really give a shit though.

"Well, um, we want to have a baby," she finally says.

"You've come to the right place for that," Jake remarks playfully.

She can't tell if she likes his teasing, knows that Mark certainly doesn't.

Mark huffs a little, "I don't really know the process and all that but it's feasible, right?"

"Absolutely," Jake replies with a smile, "I'm _very_good at what I do, I assure you."

"I bet you are," Mark mutters sarcastically under his breath.

* * *

Charlotte tries to deal with the shenanigans of her hospital, no matter how repulsive the surgical staff can behave, but some days she just doesn't want to deal with the staff anymore. She tries to do things by the book, tries not to play favorites, tries to keep her personal life and professional life separate. Seventy-five percent of the time it's beyond difficult because she knows the majority of the staff on a personal level, and often times they unintentionally (and she thinks sometimes intentionally) use that to their advantage. She doesn't blame them, not entirely, because back before she became the boss she would almost do the same thing by pulling rank; that was back when she practiced medicine.

She hardly gets the opportunity anymore. Every now and then she probes her friends a little more than necessary for extra information in an attempt to stay aware through whatever they are doing, but most of the time she longs for the opportunity to practice medicine. Much to her surprise, Mark plays stupid with her the most just so she gets the advantage of educating his interns (the ones he barely even wants to be bothered with, that is); she thanks him with a head nod.

When she was offered the position of Chief of Staff at Seattle Grace Mercy West (she was offered the job when the merge took place - the board said _new hospital, new administration_), she had debated whether the move was worth it. Mason's mom had just died and she wasn't sure it was worth taking the 8 year old from everything he knew but Cooper had suggested that maybe a new scenary for them all would be a good thing. She went with it because he said there was a great practice that Violet had just started working for where she was sure she could put in a good word for him. Charlotte liked Violet well enough, so why the hell not?

Turns out some of the surgeons who worked below her owned and operated the practice, and they made a fairly decent revenue. Over the past two years in Seattle, she's become great friends with the majority of her staff, but she tries not to play favorites. She just hopes she will never have to enforce a downsizing because if she does, she doesn't know what she'd do.

There's a heavy knock on her office door and it prompts her to lift her eyes from the paper work on her desk. She paints a smile on her face and does her damnedest to be as friendly as ever. She isn't sure this is the day for that, but she might as well try.

"Doctor Webber, what can I do for you?"

* * *

She's running a little late after the appointment because once Mark actually stopped to listen, he had a few questions. Unlike Mark, she had appointments to get to and could barely pencil in the appointment in the first place, but she knew that if she really wanted it then she shouldn't wait. She appreciates his enthusiasm but she was thoroughly pushing her fingertips into his shoulders in an attempt to usher him out of the doctor's office; not that he paid any attention to it anyway.

It just meant that her hands were on him the whole time as he said things like "just one more question, babe" or "honey, just a second"; she'd just roll her eyes, saying, "sweetheart, I have a patient in about fifteen minutes".

She's pretty sure that the nurses perceived them as a couple, if not a married one, but they get that a lot and she's used to it by now. Sometimes she'll go along with the assumption and others she'll correct them. If she's honest, part of her wants to believe that if they are going to have a baby together then he is hers and not out there knocking up some other woman. Not that she has any right.

But he guided her out of that office by touching the small of her back and holding the door open for her; she wonders if what makes it adorable is that there isn't any reason for it to be adorable at all. Most of the time she thinks that he's just Mark. _Just Mark, that's all._

She swallows as she pulls on her lab coat, trying to move quickly yet efficiently so as not to concern her coworkers about her late arrival. She doesn't really need people to ask questions, not yet anyway. She knows that she will have to talk soon enough, but she isn't ready to listen to all of the comments and opinions, wants it to just be a her and Mark thing. There's been thousands of things just between them over the years, but this is the biggest they've ever shared; she only hope Mark bites his tongue, doesn't say too much.

Arizona is checking on their patient when she arrives, just in time to go over the surgery and the results with the parents. She's still on the case because the baby is so young, but Arizona will take the lead during surgery. She's there just in case; having worked with Arizona quite a few times by now, she knows what she's capable of and how good of a surgeon she is.

Some days she thinks about how lucky she is to scrub in on some of the surgeries she has, watching Arizona work.

"Good morning, Doctor Montgomery," Arizona greets.

"Doctor Robbins," she replies with a slight tilt of her head, "how are you this morning?"

"Tired," she admits, now that they are out of earshot of the patient and her parents - mostly her parents. She sees the bright smile on her friend's face falter for a brief moment as she drops her chart off at the door. "I was up half of the night, correction, most of the night repeating a conversation that me and Callie have had countless times."

"Oh?" Addison asks; she tries not to pry, just leaves the air open for options. She doesn't know entirely the details about Arizona's relationship with her friend, just enough to know that Callie is happy seventy-five percent of the time. However, she is fairly certain she knows the conversation - it's the conversation everyone seems to be having since Zachary was born. "I can only guess."

"I just don't want kids," Arizona says with a small shrug, "it's possible. Not everyone wants kids."

"Not everyone needs kids," Addison agrees, "but what happens when you decide you _do_want kids? Women go through this phase that their biological clock literally feels like it's ticking and their ovaries explode at the sight of children. I just don't know what I'm going to do."

"I guess I'll find out when I get there," she replies, "have you thought about having a baby?"

"Yes," Addison answers simply, "I can't imagine not being a mother. The newborn smell, watching their first steps, their first day of school. I need to be a mother. What if I never am?"

"Awe, honey, I'm sure you will be," Arizona reassures, "just give it time."

* * *

Mark and Addison, the singles of the group, seem to usually get paired off when because their friends sit with their significant others. With Lexie offering to watch Zachary so Derek and Meredith could get their first official night out as parents, a dinner was in order. Of course, with Meredith being there meant Cristina and Owen were there and Derek inviting Mark (and Addison because they are somehow always a package deal without explanation); the invitation was extended to Callie and Arizona who had both conveyed that they needed the attention to be taken off of each other for just one night on more than one occasion. So, it's a given that Teddy and Henry should be there. They figured, why not let it be a big thing and have Cooper and Charlotte, Pete and Violet, and Miranda and Ben join as well.

Addison selects her dress with specific highlights in mind and is pleased but not surprised when she and Mark end up sitting beside each other. Well into appetizers, with minimal arguments breaking out between Cristina and Owen - not to mention straight faces painted onto Callie and Arizona's faces, Addison decides that now would be the time to tell their friends. Fleetingly, she thinks that at least Teddy and Henry are blissfully happy. She isn't just blindsiding them though, she is also taking her partner in this decision by surprise as well.

"Mark and I," she starts. She doesn't even have her thought completely finished before Miranda lightly begins shaking her head, Cooper lets the smallest of laughs escape his lips, Derek's mouth hangs agape, Teddy's mouth forms a circle, Meredith's eyes widen, Owen's jaw tenses, Arizona's eyebrows furrow, Violet tilts her head, Henry's smile slowly fades (he and Mark have become somewhat close, considering), Pete snorts, Callie's fingers flex, Charlotte crosses her arms over her chest, and Cristina smirks - at least she knows Cristina won't be completely against whatever comes out of her mouth. Not that Cristina will be particularly supportive either. She clears her throat, "we've decided to have a baby - together."

"Oh my god," Arizona says first.

Not the best tension breaker but it's better than _you're stupid_.

"Seriously?" Meredith comments absently.

"A baby?" Teddy repeats; Addison can detect the question in the air, unspoken amongst all of them.

She looks at Mark pointedly, begging him to help her do damage control with the desperation in her eyes only left with the hope that now is one of the times that they can communicate without words. His mouth opens slightly as his eyebrows furrow and she can feel herself grasping for him to interject, to explain something like everyone finds him more logical or something. She doesn't even know what she's expecting, just that she isn't alone in this.

Finally, he smirks and leans forward in his seat, elbows touching the surface of the table, "we want a baby and we figured if we do it together then we won't have to parent alone."

"Yeah, and we won't lose that romance in our relationship because we don't even have a relationship," she adds; she thinks she hears Cristina mutter _right_under her breath but decides to ignore it, "besides, we're friends and we already live together."

"But, honey, what are you going to do once the baby arrives?" Callie asks.

"We'll live happily ever after," Addison replies with a smile, her shoulder touching her chin as she shrugs. Mark can't help but reach out and slide his hand into hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze. She concedes a little, "look, I know it isn't ideal but we both want to be parents so why can't we do it together?"

"Wait a second," Derek says suddenly, "does this mean you two are having sex?"

Mark laughs, just laughs. Addison quirks an eyebrow at her ex-husband in a warning not push it because he knows better than that. She shakes her head.

"No, it's in v-," Mark stutters, looking at Addison for help.

"In vitro fertilization," she supplies.

"That doesn't even sound like a good idea," Violet says; Addison appreciates Charlotte's silence now more than ever.

Mark grumbles for a moment, toying with biting his bottom lip before swallowing to speak, "thank you all for your support, but we're doing it anyway."

The words barely leave his lips before he's on his feet and charging away from the table. Her eyes follow him as he exits the front door and she doesn't know if she should follow him or if she should just let him be. For a few moments, everyone just sits in shock before Derek extends a hand in her direction.

"I'll go talk to him," Derek offers.

"No," she insists, "I should be the one to do it."

"It's okay," Derek says as he pushes himself to his feet. He follows Mark's trail to the front door and pushes it open, only seeing Mark leaning against the wall of the alley by the embers of his cigarette, and he takes in a deep breath before approaching him. He smirks a little, leaning against the wall beside him, "I thought you quit."

"I did, we did," Mark says, a trail of smoke disappearing into the air. He throws the cigarette perched between his fingers against the ground, immediately followed by his heel slamming into the concrete and smashing it. He shrugs, "someone offered it to me and I thought I was just mad enough that it could distract me."

"Why are you mad - because of what everyone said?" Derek asks; Mark rolls his eyes in response and that's when Derek pushes his balance back to his toes and stands upright, "don't worry about what everyone else said. They are all going through issues having to do with kids and are just trying to keep it together. It isn't that they don't support you, they just see how sometimes things get ripped apart and are jealous of how simple your relationship is."

"I don't think of it as complicating things," he admits, "I just see it as having a baby with one of my best friends, co-parenting."

"Hey, just like you wanted, Buddy," Derek says.

Mark laughs and follows Derek's lead back inside; at least Derek hasn't called them stupid, yet.

* * *

Derek climbs into bed beside his wife, satisfied with how seemingly asleep Zachary is. Lately, the baby has been sleeping better at night now that he's almost 4 months old, but that doesn't mean he's becoming any easier to predict. If anything, Derek's dark headed son has become more of a handful since Meredith is no longer on maternity leave. He glances at her once he sees her small smirk in his periphrial vision.

"What?" He asks with a stifled laugh.

"Mark and Addison having a baby together doesn't bother you?" She asks, eyebrows teasingly rising on her forehead.

"Why? Because she's my ex-wife?" He asks. Her eyes portray everything she isn't saying and he just bursts into laughter. He lightly shakes his head, sliding further down between the sheets. "It doesn't bother me, they're both my friends. But them having a baby together is a horrible idea."

"Oh, it's the worst idea I've ever heard," Meredith says in agreement.

He shrugs as she reaches over and drags a hand through his tad bit too long hair, "but it's their life. Besides, I think they secretly like each other."

"That's how the fairytales start. Have a baby together then fall in love," she comments.

He laughs and rolls over to face her, "that's how it works for some people, but not them. I think they already love each other."

"You just think you know everything."

He leans into her and presses his lips against her jaw, "but when I'm right, I get to say _I told you so_."

She giggles, "deal."

* * *

The ding of the ball against the bat prompts Mark's eyes to shift with the little kid who hit the ball as he runs from home plate to first base. He's been to a countless number of Mason's baseball games, usually with Derek and sometimes with Addison and even occasionally Violet (and her tag-along, Lucas, who was the first baby Mark ever really held); however, this is one of the few times that it's just him at Mason's game with Cooper and Charlotte. He doesn't mind, really, because Mason's a smart kid and sometimes entertaining, despite his recent loss.

It's the first game of the season. More than that, the first game that Mason's mom hasn't been to and Mark expects him to ask where Derek or even Addison is. He isn't really looking forward to the many questions that a kid could ask especially since he's recently at a loss for words, doesn't know what to say at all anymore other than he knows what he wants.

More and more every day he begins to imagine what their kid will look like - red hair, blue eyes, and of course the Sloan nose. The Sloan nose is a given. He has it, his father had it, and his grandfather had it; he thinks if he has a kid who doesn't have the Sloan nose he'd feel like he's failed the family name. He's given into the optimism, the high hopes that what they're doing will bring him a kid that he can call his own, one who shares half of his DNA and half of Addison's.

"So," Cooper starts, chewing a handful of popcorn with an open mouth, "were you guys for real the other night?"

"About?" Mark asks, deciding that playing stupid is always safe.

"The baby thing, I mean, I think it's great. I love kids and I can be its pediatrician, but do you really want kids? I don't know, I just haven't seen you around kids very much," Cooper says with a shrug.

"What? I love kids," he replies. Well, _love_is pushing it, but he likes kids well enough. He goes to Mason's baseball games, plays peek-a-boo with Lucas, and feels like he's the most special person on earth when he holds Zachary. He expels a breath of air as he shifts his gaze from the baseball field on the other side of the fence and in Cooper's direction. "I mean, I like them if they aren't too loud and stuff, I think anyway. I don't know, if it's my kid, won't it be different?"

"I guess," Cooper absently agrees with a shrug, "I just think you either like kids or you don't."

"I don't think that's fair. Charlotte didn't want kids, didn't really like them either. Now look at her. She's a proud mom," Mark points out. He takes a sip of his drink (Mountain Dew despite the hot air and the knowledge that water would probably be better) and sees Charlotte out of the corner of his eye, sitting on the bottom row and shouting louder than anyone else. He laughs in the back of his throat once he swallows, amused at how someone so against motherhood is a mom now. "I could do it. I can be a dad. I want to be a dad. I don't think I'll be terrible at it."

"No one used the word terrible, just unexpected."

"Coop, leave that man alone," Charlotte cuts in from a few rows down, "he and Montgomery want to be parents, let them be."

Cooper smirks, "yes, ma'am."

"Wow," Mark remarks with a grin, "she's got you on a tight chain."

"You can shut up, too," she interposes.

Mark's smirk only turns into a laugh even though she's glaring and he can't tell if she's serious if she's kidding, but she doesn't really intimidate him – not the way she intimidates others. The baseball game ends with Mason scoring the last run, resulting in a slight win (Mason's run). After the game, the boy is so excited that he talks all three adults into ice cream.

"Mark, when are you and Addison getting married?" Mason asks over a bite.

Cooper chokes on his bite of ice cream while Mark just laughs, "uh, she isn't my girlfriend or anything, pal, she's just my friend."

"But you live with her," Mason reasons, "my dad and momma lives together because they're married."

"Not everybody who lives together are in a relationship," Charlotte chimes in.

"I love Addison, but I'm not in love with her," Mark explains; Mason is reluctant to accept the complex reasoning so simply, but eventually he drops the subject.

Mark wonders when everything became centered on him and his relationship with Addison - or, non-relationship.

* * *

Two or three weeks feels like a long time that she's been mulling over the information, but she can't help being jealous that Addison and Mark were going to try to have a baby. She had a heads up, maybe more than anyone else, but she didn't think they'd actually go through with it. She's happy for her best friends, really, she is, but sometimes she just can't help being jealous over her two single friends getting what she wants even though she's more than halfway down the aisle.

She almost doesn't get the reasons why Arizona doesn't want a baby, no matter how many times they go over it. Every answer she gets is practically a non-answer and her brain can't really wrap around that. For her, a part of her dies every day because she's further and further away from her dream. Of course she hadn't imagined that her laugh would be what it is, but she certainly imagined she would have_more_.

They both are going to have to make sacrifices if they want to be together, but there's a part of her that just isn't sure this is something she can budge on. She wants to be a mom. She wants Arizona to be a mom with her. She doesn't have the ability to shut that desire off.

Maybe not right now, she isn't looking for the right now agreement. She's just hoping for the possibility of some day. She doesn't think that's too much to ask. She wants the prospect of having everything she's ever wanted. Hell, maybe if she borrows Zachary for an evening Arizona will change her mind, but Arizona is a pediatric surgeon. If anyone can take care of children, out of everyone Callie knows, her answer would be Arizona in a heartbeat.

She swallows and pours a glass of wine because if she can't get what she wants, she might as well drink to that.

* * *

He tries to step lightly as he closes the front door with such an ease that if she happens to be asleep he won't wake her up, not to mention how easily he can scare her if he wants to. He practically tiptoes into the living room, the soft glow from the television bouncing off of the walls, and sees her watching an episode of Project Runway that he's never seen before; he absently wonders if it's new before crouching to the ground to creep up on her. He hides behind the back of the couch, breathes in deep before reaching up and touching her hair.

A moment of silence before he jumps to his feet and screams; he laughs when he watches her jump in her seat and scream along with him.

"I got you good, Red," he says with a smirk.

"Ugh," she groans, "shut up."

He laughs again, "what are you up to?"

"I had a nice, long bath," she answers.

"Without me?" He mock teases. She narrows her eyes in response and he lifts his hands in defense as he moves around the couch to sit down beside her. He absently shrugs and leans his shoulder against hers. "I just know you like to talk while in the bath. I thought you would have called me."

"I'm not going to call you while you're in the middle of a date," she replies.

"I would have welcomed the distraction," he counters, "she was smart and she talked a lot. She was giddy, like a school girl. It was creepy. Who would think that with all that she has going for her she would be oddly...dull. I just went out with her as a favor to Derek."

"Maybe they just wanted her out of their house or something," Addison replies with a shrug, "at least for a night anyway. What's wrong with her?"

He sighs and lifts his arm, draping it over the back of the couch. He turns his head in her direction and tucks his bottom lip between his teeth to bite back a smirk. He swallows, "I don't know. She rambles and not in that cute way you do. She talks about literally nothing when she does and her voice sounds all chipper and she has the big eyes because she's so young. She's just a kid."

"Tits too small?" Addison asks.

Mark smirks, "yeah, that too."

"I thought that was the real reason."

"Come on, Addie, you know I'm an ass man," he says with a laugh; one swift movement and he's reaching down to grasp her thigh, "and the legs. I like a good pair of legs."

He squeezes at the spot above her knee where she's ticklish, successfully emitting a giggle out of her like he wants. Her shrieks protest amidst her laughter, but that doesn't stop him; his fingers manage to tease her ribcage. Her open palm collides with his chest as she screams _Mark, stop it_while she continues to laugh and he giggles as she leans her upper body against his in an attempt to power him with her strength.

"Oh, you wanna go?" He asks as he grabs her wrists and lays back, subsequently taking her with him.

She laughs into his neck until his fingers only move against her skin so he can wrap his arms around her. His fingertips press into the small of her back as she tucks her head beneath his chin and he fleetingly wonders why he would even bother dating other women when he has her; the thought is gone as quickly as it comes, her fingers tapping against his chest. His fingers slide between hers out of habit, stilling her movements against his chest.

He swallows, asks, "are you nervous about tomorrow?"

"Kind of," she admits. She lifts up a little bit to meet his eyes with her own gaze, their mouths mere inches apart and their breath colliding in the minimal space between them. Her fingers flex against his, "I really want this to work, Mark."

"Me too, Addie," he replies as she settles back beneath his chin; he presses his cheek into her forehead, "just think, a month from now, we can be parents."

She snuggles up to him, making an audible sound that suggests approval in the back of her throat. A small smile forms on his mouth. The next time he sneaks a peek at her face, she's asleep.

* * *

A lot has happened over the past month, 4 weeks of surprises and stresses, over 28 days of pure disaster. He reflects on it in a way that translates in his attempts to not think about it. In spite of himself and his efforts, he fails greatly in avoiding. Pacing the aisles of the drug store down the street, he tries not to be spotted by anyone he knows because, despite the fact that they are well informed of what is going on, he still doesn't think it's their business just yet.

Lexie Grey has been managing to run into him everywhere since their date and he's hoping that she doesn't happen to be at _this_particular drug store because he really can't handle her rambling right fucking now. He's managed to swallow all of the words he's wanted to say, everything mean and hurtful like how she shows up everywhere and acts like she knows him - telling him things that he'd much rather not know about at all. Not to mention the way she comes across slightly insulting to or about Addison. He doesn't mean to be so protective but he can't help it.

Over the past month, they've handled Callie creeping into their living room and crying on their couch between them because her and Arizona broke up. Since then, Callie has been a wreck, saying she needs her best friends and Addison is less than enthused at the idea of sending her away. She'd say, _would you want her to dismiss you when your heart was broken?_, and he's just smirk and remind her that he's a guy.

Regardless of their attempt at IVF a month ago, Callie has spent the time ever since repeating that babies complicate things and that they shouldn't do it because what are they going to do when they find _the one_ but that person isn't ready to deal with their odd relationship and the child they share. Mark sighs absently and says that they'll figure it out while Addison smiles and reminds Callie that she wants to be a mom more than she wants a relationship. Callie typically started crying about how she wants kids someday and Arizona doesn't, that's why they broke up. _Better you find out now,_he'd think.

But now, a month later, he's at the drug store looking for a pregnancy test and isn't sure which one to get. Addison has been bitchy and snapping at him, causing him to raise his hands in defeat and just agreeing with her. He attributes it to that she's been feeling sick, throwing up anyway, and he gets it because he can be difficult when he's sick. But then, it occurred to him that maybe she could be pregnant since it's been going on for awhile.

Maybe he's just getting his hopes up, but Mark can be an optimistic guy.

He pulls out his phone and dials Jake's office, determined to be sure that it's a possibility and that he isn't wasting his time. He swallows, tapping his fingers against his thigh as the phone rings in his ear, impatiently waiting for someone to pick up the phone. Finally, the ringing stops and he automatically clears his throat.

"Seattle Family Practice, this is Dell speaking," comes the voice from the other end of the line.

"Is Jake in?" Mark asks.

"Just a moment."

A few moments pass and then, "this is Doctor Reilly."

"This is Mark. I'm just calling because I wanted to know if it would be too soon to tell if Addison is pregnant or," he trails off, not really sure how to finish his question without divulging a bunch of unnecessary information.

"Those home pregnancy tests aren't always correct," Jake replies.

"But," he starts, furrows his eyebrows as he reaches out for a box and briefly scans it, "the box says ninety-nine percent accurate."

"Yes and so do condoms," Jake counters.

"Okay, so those don't do their job? Their whole point is to do their job," Mark begins to ramble. He stops himself by tucking his bottom lip into his mouth, lightly shaking his head. He doesn't know what he was expecting from his phone call. "But, is it too soon for her to do a pregnancy test?"

"No, not at all, but you have an appointment on Monday just to be sure."

Mark nods even though Jake can't see it and says his thanks, promptly hanging up his phone and stuffing it back into his pocket. He takes the box in his hand to the front of the store, trying to beat Addison home. Fridays are her short days at the hospital because she's started lending a hand at the practice a few months ago. Since then, Jake moved to the practice because they had an opening.

When he and Derek had started their practice in New York, it was just the two of them, but since moving to Seattle they decided to expand. At first, it was just the three of them devoting part of their time to the practice and part of it to the hospital. Over the past four years they've expanded and decided that they could really use specialties that stay in the office full time; so far, it seems to be working out.

He beats her home, barely. No sooner than he sits down on the couch does he hear the front door open and close. He only hopes that's Addison rather than Callie coming in. He loves Callie, but her constant appearance, (even some nights spent on their couch because she's cried herself to sleep), makes it difficult for them to talk about what they're trying to do.

"Hey," she says; he visibly relaxes at the sound of her voice. He turns slightly to glance at her over his shoulder, arm resting on the back of the couch as his fingers tighten on the material. She offers him a weak smile. "I've had a long day. I am so ready to just sit down and relax. Plus, I'm starving."

"Food? I'm always up for food. Did you want me to make something?" He asks. She's reluctant to answer and he thinks she's racking her brain for something that sounds good. He purses his lips, beginning to feel dejected due to his over-excitement. He offers her a weak smile back, "or I can order something. Pizza? Chinese? Thai?"

"Oh," she says, eyes lighting up, "pizza sounds delicious."

"I was hoping you'd say that. What sounds good?"

"Surprise me," she says with the smallest of glints in her eyes.

"I hate it when you say that," he replies. He narrows his eyes in her direction prompting her to laugh. He drops his gaze from hers as she walks down the hallway towards her bedroom, toying with the idea of following her while her heels echo into the living room. Finally, he swallows and takes wide strides to be just a few steps behind her. "So, I was thinking..."

"Yeah?" She prods as she kicks off her heels, losing three inches when she does; she isn't insecure enough to bother refraining from beginning to unbutton her shirt.

He thinks nothing of it anymore. He lifts a hand and scratches at the back of his head, biting his bottom lip. He shoves his other hand into his pocket and leans against the doorframe as she pulls her shirt out of her pencil skirt the rest of the way. He hopes the suggestion doesn't ruin her relatively pleasant mood.

"Maybe you could," he hesitates, shifts his feet beneath him, "take a pregnancy test to ease our minds. I know I've been rather eager. I can't imagine how you feel."

"That's a sweet idea, Mark," she says, her lips tugging upward. She pulls her shirt off and tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear to get it out of her eyes. She breaks their gaze to dig through her dresser for a shirt to put on. "I don't know - we have a doctor's appointment on Monday."

"I know, but are you saying that you don't want to know? What if we're getting our hopes up when we could know now? Or what if we have something to be excited for? I'd much rather know now instead of obsess about it all weekend. I don't really have anything to do this weekend except for sit around and think."

"Not me," she replies. He's pretty sure his facial expression indicates confusion at her comment because when she sees his face she laughs. He fuses his lips together, tilting his head to the side as she turns her back to him, unhooks her bra, and pulls an old t-shirt of his only showing minimal skin. "I'm on call this weekend and we both know that babies are impromptu. I'm sure they will distract me."

"So, you think that delivering babies and saving babies' lives will distract you from thinking about the possibility that we might be having a baby?" He repeats, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I never said it was a flawless plan," she counters, turning on her heel to face him. She unzips her skirt and pushes it to the ground, the t-shirt long enough for her to forgo shorts. Finally, she stands up fully and offers him a smile, "I'll do it if you really want me to."

"The things you do for me," he replies with a smirk.

* * *

Henry Burton used to be a baseball player. He wasn't what would be classified as an _all-time great_, but he was good enough to make it to major leagues. That's what he hates most about his disease is that when he was a kid he'd always imagined playing professional baseball, and when he made it he had to quit. Before he met Teddy, he'd joke that maybe he'd join a circus and when asked his skill he'd say that he grows tumors for a living. He wouldn't wish the disease on anyone though because as much as he laughs about it, it really isn't funny.

He must have picked up a lucky penny or something though because somehow he got a hot, successful surgeon to marry him. Although the love part came later, it doesn't make a difference to him because in the end he still turned out to be lucky. He hopes that maybe things are looking up, that his life is about to do a turn around. Not to mention Doctor Webber agreeing to admit him into some trial in an attempt to beat the many other diseases that his disease had caused. It's never ending - the doctors appointments, the hospital visits, the sick days.

And his profession is something to do with something he honestly knows nothing about.

He wishes he could go back to the game, but Mark's a great buddy for that. They go to baseball games and sometimes Henry sneaks them into the dug out as a former Seattle Mariner. His old team mates, and even the new ones, are welcoming even to the stranger who never really played baseball.

He wraps his arms a little tighter around his wife, content with laying in bed a little bit longer on his day off. That's probably his favorite things about the weekends, especially when Teddy doesn't work. Her hand twitches below the sheet and he smirks as he reaches to entwine their fingers. She stifles a yawn and peels her eyes open to see him looking back at her.

"Good morning, wide eyes," she comments.

He laughs and says, "I'm glad you're up. Now you can make me breakfast."

She smirks and rolls into his embrace; he's pretty positive that his life can only get better from here.


	3. somehow the story keeps going from here

**a/n (p1): mark and addison have never been together, addison and derek were married but aren't anymore, and there will be multiple ships in this but it is primarily mark/addison, some (okay, a lot or even _most_) of the history is different**

**a/n (p2): read anything by lynn ( sliceofperfection ) and you won't regret it; my personal fav is sick cycle carousal**

* * *

When Mark was little, he'd wanted to be a jedi. There was a certain fascination with the entire idea, the overall belief that the world would be about space and honor by the time he was an adult. But when his mom died, everything seemed to shatter around him. His dad became this person he didn't know anymore, a man that he's been trying to forget ever since. All he learned was how he didn't want to behave when he became an adult.

He has morals, a few fucked up ones, but he still has them; he's loyal to his friends and he kind of knows what love is. He's never really been in love, but he supposes he's probably been close a few times. In all reality, the closest he's ever been is Addison.

He was in love with her for most of his adult life (note: maybe even still is), but he'd learned to suppress it for them all. He thinks it was the best decision because he walked away with two best friends rather than losing it all. He thinks it's a great thing, really.

But there is this loom around his heart because he's never truly expressed his love for another human being. He tries not to think about how life might have been when he lies awake at night, tries not to get angry at the way things good be. He's a little frustrated that things aren't currently going his way, but he's heard the saying _Rome wasn't built in a day_.

His dad used to tell him that patience was a virtue (only when it happened to benefit his father was it actually a virtue in their household), but Mark was never really one to have patience. Or he just didn't bother to think about things that didn't affect him much. He understands that things take time, that these things don't just happen overnight, but when he wants something he wants it right now.

Addison has told him for years that it isn't that simple; usually, he can smirk and tell her that it's already happened or is getting ready to.

But having a baby takes a substantial amount of time. Typically, it could take months or even years to find a woman worth being tied to for the entirety of his life, one who possess' great qualities that are ideal to have as part of his child's dna, not mention a woman he can stand to be around for 5 full minutes with the potential of okay conversation. Luckily for him, his best friend wants a baby too and they can do this together; he already knows everything about her, all of her good and bad qualities, and he loves her and her likes her. He thought that was the hard part.

One round of neutral ivf and one more of mild ivf, they still don't haven't procreated the perfect little fetus (even though he has grown quite attached to Zachary). For the last month (more like 17 days), he's been sticking a needle into her hip and giving her a hormone shot to increase fertility. He doesn't really get what's going on or why he needs to do it because he didn't make it to the appointment that day, but he does what he's told. She tells him to stab her and he forces a wild grin on his face in an attempt to make her squirm; she promptly smacks him on the chest and tells him to cut it out.

On day 18, the alarm on his phone goes off at 7:30pm just as it has for the last 17 days. He leans forward in his seat from the couch and motions for her to come over. She doesn't seem to smile as like usual.

He pulls at the waistband of her pants and looks up at her, reaching for the needle and syringe in her hand, "what's wrong, babe?"

"Nothing," she replies absently as he cleans the area, "just, what if all of this is for nothing? What if it doesn't work?"

"Oh, honey," he says without thinking; he tosses the alcohol wipe onto the coffee table and removes the needle cap with his teeth, "don't say things like that. We have to think positively. We haven't reached our last hope yet. You are beautiful and brilliant and an amazing person. We're going to have a baby."

"But it's been four months. We're on our third attempt of ivf," she replies sadly, inhaling deep when he pushes the needle into her skin - it never gets any easier no matter how many times it's been done, "what if this doesn't work?"

"We can always try the old-fashioned way," he replies with a shrug and a smirk.

Her eyes narrow in his direction and he removes the needle with ease; he's basically a pro at hormone shots now.

"If I didn't know any better I'd say you're just trying to get into my pants," she counters.

"Oh, please. Addison Adrienne Forbes Montgomery, you're the love of my life," he says teasingly. He caps the needle and tosses it onto the coffee table beside the alcohol pad, pushing his hands against her back just above her waistline to pull her into his lap. He offers her a genuine smile and tucks a loose strand of auburn hair behind her ear. "Listen, Addie, I love you and you deserve good things in the world. I will do everything within my power to be sure we have this baby. I mean, Derek and Meredith had one accident, I'm pretty sure we can have one on purpose."

"But what if I'm not meant to be a mom?" She asks him.

"We've been over this a thousand times, you're meant to be a mom. I've never met anyone more inspiring, more beautiful, more gentle, or more intelligent," he pauses, entwining his fingers with hers as she finally settles in his lap, "I've never met anyone like you before, Addison, and I never will."

She drops her forehead onto his and he takes the opportunity to offer her a small smile as her eyelashes flutter against his cheeks. He lightly presses his lips into hers, pulling away just as quickly as they'd touched. Just a small peck, like they've done thousands of times - sometimes even when she was married to Derek. No one ever really thought anything of it.

But he feels her hands slide through his hair, fingertips pressing into the nape of his neck, and he becomes acutely aware of the warmth of her breath and the heat radiating off of her lips. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought about it, especially lately. He swallows a thick film of saliva, eyes drifting closed.

"If it's the last thing I do, I will make sure you become a mother," he adds, breathlessly.

He doesn't know what's gotten into him, doesn't know how to push her away when he feels her lips suddenly collide with his, her hot tears splashing onto his face. He gulps as he pushes his hands around her back as if second nature, his elbows sliding against each other as he pulls her body into his. Her tongue sweeps over his slightly parted lips as his fingertips find her hair, the close proximity of her taking over his brain.

Over the past few months, they've been drawn together more and more. The absent touching, the lips inching closer only to find another course at the last second, is all something that's been building up and driving him crazy. Most of the time, it's without thinking and only later does he look back and trace every movement either of them made.

As his tongue touches hers he remembers the briefest of moments when they were drunk years ago and she was crying because her and Derek were getting a divorce and she felt like she was losing a limb. It's less and more than he remembers at the same time, the way her mouth clings to his and her fingers dig into his scalp. Both times remind him of desperation, both a different kind of desperation in their own way.

The way she's clinging to him makes him feel that she needs him but he isn't sure what she needs him for. He's always needed her in a way, always wanted her but he's never really had her. Or maybe he has - just not like this.

His fingers slip passed the hem of her blouse, her skin warm beneath his fingertips as his hand slides up her spine. He feels her shiver against him, breath hitching as her lips still against his mouth. He prepares for her to stop whatever they're doing, for her to think it's a mistake.

He doesn't even know what to call something that hasn't even happened yet.

He closes his eyes and leans his chest into her, fingers splaying out against her skin as the fingernail of his index finger taps against the metal hooks of her bra. Her teeth nip at the corners of his mouth and it's a bit unexpected, a side of Addison he's never really received before. His lips curve upwards against hers, her hands tracing the dents in his arms where his muscles exist.

He absently tugs at the material between them, calloused fingertips gripping the silk harder than he should so a button flies off from the bottom. He feels her snarl against his mouth but he presses his lips harder against hers to keep her from protesting about the state of her clothing. His tongue collides with her teeth as he swallows a brief protest; it doesn't take her much encouragement to slide her tongue against his.

He feels her tug on the hem of his sweater, her nails digging in to his skin as she pulls at his clothing, the feeling of her flat stomach arching into his hand. He releases a groan of pretest as she pulls away, Addison's determination to pull his shirt off something that's difficult for him to ignore, and as she does he slides his hand beneath her ass and guides her legs around his waist. Pushing himself to his feet and managing to steady them as he kicks off his shoes, she releases the smallest of giggles.

He grunts as her teeth find his neck, lips circling the skin and her tongue sliding in exquisite circles, and he can feel his flesh pulsating somewhere to the point that his esophagus constricts when he swallows. He doesn't really hear himself growl until he nearly trips over a laptop cord and reacts quick enough to grasp her tightly with one arm and extend his hand with the other. His fingertips catch the doorframe before his palm flattens against the painted wood, his nails catching in places where the wood is beginning to chip.

She releases a gentle moan as he plants open mouthed, wet kisses against her throat. He only closes his eyes for a brief moment as he steps forward, not the best of ideas, and he runs into his bedroom door - her body slamming hard into the faux wood. He's surprised when she sucks in a deep breath just mere inches from his ear, the noise prompting him to swallow a gulp of air and nearly choke on oxygen. Her fingers trail over his chest between them and he wonders if she can feel his heart beat through his ribcage.

He twists his doorknob, the door opening so fast and hard that it collides with the wall. It's a moment that he isn't thinking that brings him into his bedroom, the idea of having her writhing below him beneath his sheets penetrating into his brain by the time he climbs over her on the bed. He drops his lips to hers as she unbuttons her shirt, quickly following her lead and finding the zipper on the skirt. With a motion that indicates a perfect amount of practice, he tugs downward on the zipper and pinches at the hem of her skirt to pull it down her endless legs; he pretends not to see the smallest bits of surprise on her face as he tosses her clothing onto the floor.

His pants tighten around his pelvis as the blood flows more towards the head of his penis, the way the light from the street sneaks into the room and highlights her frame causing his erection to rub against his boxers. He watches her bite her bottom lip and he fleetingly thinks that he's never seen anything sexier. He silently reprimands himself at the realization that her fingers are undoing the button his pants.

He gulps, lowering his mouth to hers and pressing his hands against the mattress on either side of her head to keep him from placing all of his weight on her. He places a trail of kisses from her mouth to the skin of her breast spilling over the wire of her bra, finally forcing himself to breathe and trail his hand down her front. He swipes his tongue over her skin, teeth absently dragging just below her underwire, and he hears her breathing pick up at the feel of his hot breath on her damp skin.

With a delicate touch, shaky fingertips even, he expels a breath and loops his fingers around the waistband of her panties. He tugs downward to expose more of her skin and he thinks for a second that his heart has stopped beating or he's only imagining things. She moves in front of him, pushing her torso off of the mattress to touch his lips with her own as she unhooks her bra; he grins against her mouth, sliding his hands beneath her ass so he can tug her clothing off.

As they both toss the clothing on the floor, he perches himself between her legs and meets her lips with a fierce kiss. Unable to hold himself back anymore, he pushes at his black dress pants with one hand as he balances himself with the other one; he kicks his leg out in an attempt to weasel out of his pants and he releases a sigh of relief into her mouth when she laughs a little and offers him two helping hands. His fingertips immediately press into her calf so he can trail his fingertips up her leg.

He slips a hand between them; the middle finger of his left hand dipping inside of her and moving up her clit before smoothing over her hip. He feels her hands wrap around his torso, fingers squeezing his skin at the muscles in his lower back and her nails leaving crescent moon shapes in his skin. Their mouths part for a moment as he slides his nose along hers, inhaling a deep breath. His thumb glides over her erect nipple, her breath sharp against his cheek.

Her mouth touches his jaw and his hips thrust, causing his erection to get closer to her opening. He releases a sound somewhere between a laugh and a groan against her throat, his thumb circling her hipbone. She arches into his touch, encouraging him to drive himself into her. She moans against his jaw as he slips his fingers into her hair; his breath entwines with hers for a moment before he rolls his hips. He almost forgets to breathe when she pushes at his chin to tilt his head upward, her mouth almost immediately closing around his jutted bottom lip.

He glides his hand between them and pushes his index finger against her clit. She breaks their lips apart in a rush, her teeth gritting together as he thrusts forward. Mark presses his elbow against the mattress, the thumb of his free hand sliding against her jaw line. He offers her a small smile as he keeps pumping himself in and out of her; he pushes his tongue into his bottom lip as he continues to make circles with his finger.

He hears her cry out against his neck, burying her face into the crook of it. He pulls his hand up to her nipple, fingertips tightening around it before he sinks his teeth into her throat. He drags his tongue across her skin in small circles before pulling back. Her fingertips scratch up his back until she buries them into his hair.

She meets his thrusts and it seems to become a blur and go by faster because she begins to mutter incoherent words that he's sure neither of them will remember and his heart begins to speed up with every movement. He grunts as she releases a scream that he's sure the neighbors will hear (but he will deny it if Callie or Arizona happens to ask), and the way her muscles spasm around him makes him thrust one more time before he's spilling himself inside of her. He can't remember how to breathe, can't remember where he ends or she begins and if he were to actively think about it he would probably like it that way.

When he finally forces himself to breathe in through his nose and out of his mouth he kisses her again, this time not bothering to let it be rushed as he absently traces the shape of her mouth. She doesn't push him away and neither of them makes it seem cheap as they finally laugh while still capturing their breaths. Eventually, after conversations about nothing and everything at the same time (except no one is bringing up the baby subject), he rolls his body into hers and slides his arm around her waist; he couldn't be bothered to kick her out of his bed even though he's sure hers is much more comfortable.

She is Addison, after all.

* * *

Jake thinks he's a pretty assertive guy, understanding to say the least, but he has a habit of opening his mouth and inserting his opinion when it isn't asked. He doesn't know very many people in the city, so when his new boss (Derek) asked him if he'd like to help him move with the rest of the guys he went ahead and agreed. Something about pizza and beer even though that isn't really his thing, but that's what guys do.

Since his wife died he hasn't made much of an effort to make friends with too many people. Now that Angie is off to college he doesn't have much of a choice but to get out there an associate himself with people. He isn't just a dad anymore, and every time she calls she asks him if he's met any friends; he laughs because she makes it sound so easy to be the parent - she's always worried about his well being.

The day has been pretty busy, but at least most of Meredith and Derek's furniture is new and being delivered by a company. Mark's laughter echoes throughout the garage as he and Derek carry the only bed that made it from one house to the next. He hears Mark say _you should have let Addison come decorate, you know she'd take over_; Derek counters with a laugh and _I did that once, it's your turn now_.

Jake lightly shakes his head to try ridding thoughts of the only woman who has caught his attention since his wife died. He isn't too proud to have a small crush on a woman who is his boss, let alone a patient who is trying to have a baby with his other boss. He lifts a hand and absently wipes at the beads of sweat lining his forehead despite the chill making it's way in through all of the open doors.

He spots Henry taking a seat out of the corner of his eye, the only person he's never met before being him, and the guy seems to be breathing heavy; he takes a step in his direction, "you okay?"

"Yeah," Henry replies with a nod and a hand, "I have a tumor. Breathing is hard sometimes."

"Do you need me to do anything?" He asks.

Henry laughs a little, "nah, I'm just going to have Mark take me home in a few."

"Let me know if there's anything I can do," he says.

* * *

Owen kind of hates himself right now for holding his wife's hand while they aborted their baby. He wants kids, he wants to be a dad but Cristina just won't see things his way. He doesn't get how she couldn't want to be a mom; if she really loved him, she'd have a baby with him.

He thinks there's more to it, her reasoning for not having kids. He's never asked, thinks that if she wanted him to know then she would tell him. He shouldn't have to ask for her to tell him things.

So, when he gets home and she looks a bit too smug, his blood boils beneath the surface because he's beginning to hate her as much as he hates himself. He doesn't want to. She's still a brilliant, beautiful creature - she's just so agitating. After spending all day around kids, around men who are dads and who have the opportunity to be dads, he just can't contain himself anymore.

He's ripping off the band aid and picking at the scab; the moment he says anything about a baby, she's out the door and he's pretty sure Meredith and Derek don't get to spend the first night in their new home alone.

* * *

Amelia Shepherd rolls her eyes at Kathleen managing to control the group - that's 22 people that she's bossing around, including their mother. Her mom gets it and just offers her a tight smile before wrapping an arm around her middle. She leans into her mother's shoulder and returns the sentiment, draping an arm over her shoulder; she's still her mommy's girl, even though they fight because she's rebellious and is an all around fuck up.

Secretly, she likes to think that she's her mother's favorite too. Not that Carolyn would ever say it out loud. But Mama Shep (as Mark calls her) has a knack for making all of her children believe that she's their favorite. Lucky for her, she just got _mommy_to herself more than the others.

Amelia smiles as she wraps her other arm around her mom, the only ones without a partner.

"I love you, Mom," Amelia says quietly.

Her mom laughs, "I love you too, baby girl."

She can't help the tug that pulls at the corner of her mouth because she's the only one who gets that nickname. It makes her feel special and warm and fuzzy. In all honesty, she's still a kid seeking that love that sometimes only her mother can give her. But she misses her big brother.

She can't believe he has a baby now. Even more than that, she hates that she hasn't seen him yet. She has 9 nieces and 5 nephews, but she'd always known she'd be especially attached to Derek's kids. She just hopes that she's Zachary's favorite. She can't wait to meet Zachary Alan Shepherd; from the pictures she's seen, he's already much cuter than her brother was.

She makes a note to tell Derek that.

She's going to spend all night trying to hog that little boy because while her sisters and their husbands are going to a hotel with their kids, she's going to her brother's house with her mom. She's almost certain that's when she'll win Zachary over, that's if Addison hasn't already deemed herself his favorite aunt. Kathleen's husband Richard grabs her bag and assures her that he'll make sure it gets into Derek's hands, so she concedes and just walks with her arms around her mother; they've finally bridged that gap between them.

First thing in the morning, she'll be sure to wake up Mark and Addison at the crack of dawn.

* * *

Addison wakes up with a start, refreshed like she'd slept for weeks or even months, but glancing at the clock she notices she got maybe 6 hours of sleep at most. She stretches and rolls over, pleased to see that Mark is still in bed with her even though she tries not to think too much of it. She doesn't know how to put into words what's going on or what's happening or where this is all coming from; all that she knows is that she likes it.

She scoots to the middle of the bed where he's sprawled out on his stomach, just like he's been sleeping for the past 5 nights, and she slides a hand around his torso. Her fingertips tease at his hipbone as she pushes her breasts into his back and presses her lips into his shoulder blade. She plants a trail of lazy, open mouthed kisses to just below his ear.

She hears a muffled laugh come from his mouth as her teeth nip at his skin, and his hand catches her by the wrist when her fingertips brush over his skin just above the waistband of his boxers. She sees him peel an eye open as he shifts a little below her; she smiles against his neck when she extends her fingers and brushes her nails over the skin of his stomach. He releases a heavy breath as she twists her hand and swirls her tongue against a patch of skin beyond her open lips in an attempt to distract him enough to free her arm.

"Woman, you better stop," he warns. She releases a quiet laugh against his skin before she sinks her teeth into the skin just between his neck and shoulder. She sucks on his skin, teasing the area with her tongue until she hears a noise somewhere between the word _oh_and a moan fall out of his mouth. He clears his throat, "you better stop that too, or else."

She smirks, "or else what?"

He tilts his head to catch sight of her devious facial expression, red hair cupping the lines of her jaw, and he lightly shakes his head. Her hand slips beneath the waistband of his boxers and he can't find it in him to protest, not really; he sharply inhales at the feel of her fingertips sliding over his shaft. She feels him gulp against her nose and she pulls back to look at his face with an elusive grin.

"I'm warning you," he reminds her.

"What are you going to do? Punish me?" She asks on the boarder of seductively.

"Heh," he mutters. He rolls over beneath her, her nipples sliding over his skin in a way that practically takes his breath away. He tilts his head to the side as she hovers over him, lips parted and moist. "Are you asking me to punish you, Doctor Montgomery?"

"Maybe," she replies, hand still wrapped around him.

He smirks and reaches down for her wrist. Grasping both of her wrists, he rolls over watches her mouth turn into a pout beneath him as the spot on his neck starts to pulsate. He has half a mind to return the favor but he's sure there will be more time for that later - instead, he drops his lips to her skin to paint a trail of moisture down her torso as he manages to rid her of her underwear.

His fingers clasp her thighs as he presses his mouth towards her center, tongue darting out. He hears her breath quicken in the stillness of the room as he curls his tongue around her clit, dipping a finger inside of her. She arches upward and he can't contain the laugh that escapes him, knowing that if he isn't careful he might just miss out. He flits his tongue against her a few more times as he pushes the waistband of his boxers over his hips.

Her fingertips grasp his shoulder and he slowly teases her a bit more before he climbs up her body. He slides into her with ease, his mouth closing around hers as he thrusts. It doesn't take very much for either of them, really, and they both come with a laugh that tickles their lips. Slowly, he tilts his head down and touches her forehead with his own, lips pressing at the corners of her mouth.

"I didn't know sex could be so good," she mumbles against his mouth.

"I warned you," he says with a laugh.

"Yet, you're the one with a bruise," she replies with a smirk of her own.

He narrows his eyes at her and rolls off of her; "I wonder whose fault that is."

"Don't act like you didn't enjoy it."

He throws his legs over the side of the bed to stand up and pull his boxers back up. He watches her feel for her underwear before she finally finds the pair and he pick up his shirt from the night before. He definitely thinks her bed is more comfortable. He won't make that mistake again. He starts to leave her bedroom but she catches him by the arm, tugs him in her direction. When their mouths meet she takes the shirt from his hand and it makes him laugh into her kiss.

She pulls it on over her head when there's a knock at the front door; his eyebrows furrow, "I'll get it."

He unlocks the door and feels her arms slide over his torso with a laugh muffled by his skin. He likes seeing her happy, that much he's certain of. Mark opens the door and his mouth drops open to see Amelia on the other side.

"Oh my god, Amy," Addison nearly shrieks.

"Oh my god," Amelia agrees, "unless there's two more people in there, you guys just had sex."

Amelia smirks and Mark can't even count the seconds on his fingers before Addison has pulled her inside and slammed the door behind her; he knows there's no way Amelia will be convinced otherwise. He finally looks at Addison in the daylight and realizes that with her wearing his shirt and the way she has sex hair, they are in trouble. He can't help but laugh out loud.

Addison glares; he just encircles her in his arms because he finds her entire demeanor adorable.

* * *

Jackson Avery doesn't have it as easy as all of his friends thinks he does. His grandfather is Harper Avery. His mother is Catherine Avery. Both have penetrated the medical field so hard that he almost doesn't even stand a chance.

He's lucky to have a teacher in Mark Sloan who not only challenges him, but allows him the opportunity to receive a challenge on a daily basis. He, however, is dreading the day that his mother meets his teacher. Both can be big headed, neither willing to listen to anyone else to an extent that it could be a knock down, drag out fight.

He thought that maybe he'd finally gotten something right when he started dating Lexie. She was smart and funny and beautiful and he fell in love with her despite their best attempts at not trying to be anything. He really thought he could see himself with her for the rest of his life. In fact, he had considered proposing to her.

That was until she walked in on her sharing a bed with his best friend. He gets it. He knew that Lexie and Alex were a thing. Maybe they never stopped being a thing. Maybe he was the one who didn't get it and thought they were something that they really weren't. Maybe, just maybe.

Either way, he drinks hard liquor now.

He downs another glass full of scotch (Mark says that's a drink for men), and when he slams the glass on the counter that's when he locks eyes with her. He misses the way she smells. One day, maybe one day he'll get over her.

He swallows, taking his pride with his saliva; he makes his way across the bar to where she is sitting, "hey."

"Hi," she mutters in return.

He can tell that she is ashamed about everything that's happened. He doesn't want to be an asshole. He isn't that guy and he never will be.

"I'm sorry about everything that happened," he releases a breath in the air between them. "I hope you're happy with Alex."

He offers her a small smile to show her that he means it. Her face softens and her gaze falls away from his. She lightly shakes her head, "we aren't seeing each other anymore."

"I'm sorry to hear that," he replies; he decides to swallow everything and be the bigger man, taking the seat at the bar next to hers.

* * *

"I just," Callie starts shakily; Arizona knows what's coming next - "I just think it's a conversation worth revisiting. I mean, if we're going to make this work. We have to make this-"

And Arizona stops listening. It isn't that she doesn't love Callie, because she does with her whole heart, it's that she that Callie deserves...better. She deserves someone who wants the same things she wants at least. Arizona thinks that everyone deserves at least that.

She doesn't know how to say what needs to be said, how to point out that at the end of the day it just isn't enough. It shouldn't be enough for anyone and as much as she wants to say she's going to spend the rest of her life with this woman, she can't say that because Callie wants kids. She doesn't. It isn't a crime. Some women just don't want kids.

"Callie," she says forcefully. She isn't going to keep strong on this one. She's going to be crying by the time she's done talking. "I got the grant in Africa. I didn't think that I would, but I did. I'm leaving next week to go visit my parents for the holidays. From there, I'm flying to Africa."

"What?" Callie's eyebrows furrow in question; Arizona hates herself, she really does.

She drops her gaze to the material of the couch, pretending like she can still see through the tears forming in her eyes.

* * *

Derek insists on having Thanksgiving at their newly built house, saying that it has plenty of room and more importantly, parking places. His argument was only somewhat sane because the invite list was extended to basically everyone they know, which is a lot of people. When Mark told Carolyn, she had a scowl on her face until he reassured her that he was going to help her cook.

Addison volunteered to help, but they all laughed in response. Mark pointed his finger at her and said _you're funny, you're a funny girl_and kissed her nose. He's pretty sure that she huffed and puffed for 3 days. So, their apartment was empty because they stayed the night before Thanksgiving at Derek and Meredith's to help cook.

Helping really means Derek doing whatever Carolyn or Mark told him to do while Mark reads from a cookbook and Carolyn cooks from memory. Derek grins at his mother every time she absently grumbles about the 48 people she is cooking for while Mark reassures that there will be plenty of food. Of course, Addison hovers in a way that she stays silent while being in the way, reading her magazine and sipping on her glass of wine. (Mark and Derek both insists she drink for the occasion while she encourages them to be discreet because she doesn't want Derek's mom to know yet.)

Amelia starts out in the kitchen but when she and Addison go to join Meredith in showering Zachary with attention, Amelia never makes it back. Mark watches Addison's smile touch the corners of her eyes and it makes him smile a little too; if Carolyn notices anything, she doesn't say so. It's almost midnight when Carolyn says that she's going to go to bed because she has to get up early to finish all of the things that can't be done.

Mark turns around and Derek's gone too, so it's just him left to bake half of the desserts. He thinks that he may be able to make Addison help him. But when he opens his mouth to talk, he can tell by the way her mouth is turned that she has no intention on helping him cook.

"Stop being so lazy," he says.

His lips form into a smirk when she narrows her eyes at him. He leaves her alone while he gets one dessert finished, lets her flip through another magazine but when he puts the first round of pies in the oven he has a better idea. Rounding the island in the middle of the kitchen, he reaches around her middle and pulls her off of the stool, careful to make sure she lands on her feet.

"What do you think you're doing?" She asks, a hint of teasing lined in her voice.

He guides her back around to where he was mixing ingredients together, pinning her between himself and the counter; "making you help. Just because you're pretty doesn't mean you don't have to help."

"Why not? I was enjoying my show," she replies with a shrug.

"You'll enjoy this too," he counters with a smile, "I promise."

She rolls her neck on her shoulders when he slides his fingers down her arms, circling his hands around hers as he presses his cheek into hers. Her breath hitches in her throat as his lips linger against the skin of her neck, the warmth of his body creating an orb of heat to surround the chills on her skin. She tries to clear her throat.

"Stop that," she tells him. She finally huffs in mock exasperation while trying to hold in a laugh, set against giving him the validation that he might be getting somewhere. His fingers entwine with hers, his palms pressing into the back of her hands. She pouts a little, "I thought you wanted to make pie, not fuck me in your best friend's kitchen."

"Maybe I want to do both," he replies with ease, grin sliding onto his mouth.

"You can't always get what you want," she challenges.

He leans more against her, lips pressing against her ear lobe, "but you can try sometimes."

She laughs a little as his fingers curl around hers, a sigh escaping her mouth at the feel of his grin against her skin. She shakes her head in an attempt to get the hair out of her face, ultimately being forced to lift their entwined hands to do it. Before she can tuck the hair behind her ear, he's extending his index finger and sliding it through her hair. His fingers tighten around hers, their bodies swaying as he guides her hips to rock from side to side.

"What are we doing?" She asks gently.

"Well, I am doing everything I can to make sure this pretty girl knows I exist and she is successfully teasing me without even trying," he answers; expelling a breath against her skin, he feels her lean a little more heavily against her. She swallows, wondering how to tell him that it isn't true without making it something bigger than it really is. He breathes her in, his nostrils catching the smell of her perfume, "you smell nice."

"Chanel," she supplies.

"Good to know," he whispers huskily as he drops his lips to her neck. He hears her make a noise deep in the bellows of her throat and he takes it as an invitation for him to slide their hands over her torso, fingertips tapping just below her breasts. He's been trying so hard not to be distracted by her presence all evening. "Do you want me to stop?"

She gulps, "no, not really."

Her admission makes him grin, and he knows that there's a number of people who can walk in at any moment; part of the thrill of peeling her clothes off and pushing her against the counter while covering her mouth to keep her from screaming too loud is enough to make it end before he knows it. He laughs against her skin, not knowing how they ended up having the inability to do anything but that when they are alone. He's starting to forget that they started doing this to make a baby.

Afterwards, Addison sees Amelia watching television on the couch and a flush goes to her cheeks.

* * *

There are nearly two thousand conversations going on at once, tension spread throughout the room despite Derek's best efforts. His mom is irritated because she spent most of the day before and the morning cooking for a number of people she doesn't know. He wishes everyone would lighten up and have a better time. He thinks that at least Mark and Addison are having a great time, even if it means having to ignore that they seem a bit closer than usual.

His little sister has been missing for the last half hour and he's overcome with concern. It's been difficult for him to get over everything that has happened with her and accept that maybe she's fully recovered. Although Amelia and his mom seem to have made up, he still worries that maybe he doesn't know everything. Ever since their dad died he's tried to look out for her.

He excuses himself from the table, glancing at Amelia's empty seat, and offers everyone a small, hopefully convincing smile. Knocking on doors, he finally gets a muffled reply from the bathroom in the hallway downstairs. He swallows and sighs, hoping he doesn't have to break the door down.

"Amy, let me in," he yells through the door.

"Just a minute."

"Is everything all right?"

"Yes," she yells back, her voice sounds strained.

He releases a sigh of exasperation and reaches above the door, feeling for the key. Finding it, he shoves the key into the lock and hears the metal pop. He twists the door open and sees something that he wasn't prepared for.

Derek mutters, "oh my god."

Amelia tucks her bottom lip into her mouth as she struggles to straighten her clothing out and Alex pulls his pants up, the metal of his belt clacking together. She scrubs her face with her fingertips as Alex smirks. She wants to smack the look off of his face.

"Look, Derek-"

"I can't believe it. In my house? During dinner?"

There's a crowd forming just inside the dining room and she can't even spot her mom hiding her face anymore; she feels defensive, "me? Mark and Addison had sex in your kitchen last night."

Mark clears his throat and claps his hands together, "so, who wants dessert?"

Derek's eyes flit from Alex and Amelia to Mark and Addison (noting that she's as red as he's ever seen her and attempting to hide her face in Mark's shoulder). Derek can't figure out what to say because none of this is something that he expected to hear today. Finally, his eyes settle on Mark.

"What exactly is safe to eat?"**  
**


	4. there is no real beginning

**a/n (p1): mark and addison have never been together, addison and derek were married but aren't anymore, and there will be multiple ships in this but it is primarily mark/addison, some (okay, a lot or even _most_) of the history is different**

**a/n (p2): read anything by lynn ( sliceofperfection ) and you won't regret it; my personal fav is sick cycle carousal**

* * *

Addison didn't know how to face anyone after the outburst on Thanksgiving, wondering what she could even say. She could try to deny it or make excuses for it, but it really wasn't anybody else's business, or so she thought. Of course everyone would have opinions about it like they did about their news that they were having a baby together, but she supposes that she hasn't tried to think about what they were doing much.

Honestly, she's afraid to think about it and wants to just live in the moment because she hasn't done much of that in her lifetime. Sure, there were little things that seemed important at the time but are hardly even remembered now. She doesn't want to feel like she's missed something when she becomes a mom.

But that's the real journey, isn't it? Maybe he'd had something all along with his teasing comments about doing it the old fashioned way. There was security that it was theirs, that no one else. And she's pretty sure that if she's sleeping with him then he isn't sleeping with anybody else.

She's beginning to question how much it would bother her if he were.

"It's cold in this apartment. We should have gotten the one with the fireplace," she huffs as she walks down the hallway while tugging the sleeves of her Yale sweatshirt to the middle of her palms.

He smirks from the couch at the sight of her, "or maybe you could put some pants on because what you're wearing now are barely classified as shorts."

"Shut up," she replies with a narrowed gaze and a hint of a smirk, "besides, I was going to make you keep me warm."

"You're being oddly calm for someone who was so embarrassed that people found out about the sex," he remarks.

"Do you ever stop talking?" She challenges with a mocking groan as she sits down on the couch beside him.

He laughs and drops his hand to her leg, running his hand over her cold skin with a mock pout; he reaches for the blanket draped over the back of the couch. He spreads it out over her, lifting his ass a little when she tucks her frozen feet beneath him. He shakes his head as she slips her hands below his shirt in an attempt to warm them up too.

"Why are you putting your cold hands on me?" He questions her, fighting a chill.

"Stop squirming, just keep me warm," she whines.

"You have a blanket," he counters.

She pouts, throwing her hands down against her thighs, "Mark!"

"Ugh, fine. Come here," he motions. He wraps his arm around her shoulder and pulls her towards him, lets her wrap her arms around his middle beneath his shirt so she can warm up. She slides her legs down his, taking the blanket with her and slips her foot between his calves. "Is that better?"

"Much," she agrees.

He laughs a little, muffled as she slides her nose along his throat if only for a brief moment while she settles against him. She allows herself to think for the first time how glad she is that them having sex hasn't changed the way they are with each other. Her fingernails graze over his skin when she pulls her hand up to press her fingers into his neck to guide his mouth to hers.

His lips part beneath hers and his eyes drift closed, his arm pulling her a bit closer when her tongue taps against his. She feels herself smile a little, his fingertips pressing into her skin until the area surrounding his grasp becomes white. It takes a few moments, maybe even minutes before he pulls away and lets his forehead linger against hers.

"Mark?"

"Hm?" He lazily responds.

"Do you still want a baby?" She asks, the question quiet and gentle and maybe even uncertain as to what his answer will be. She wonders if whatever they've started doing complicated things, changes his answer or something. She's afraid to peel her eyes open to look at his face; she isn't expecting it when he briefly presses his lips against hers.

"Nothing is going to change my mind about that. You could stop kissing me right now and I would still want a baby with you," he admits.

She sighs, more relief than anything else, "I wasn't sure if things have maybe changed, or. Should we talk about it?"

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asks. In all honesty, maybe waking up beside his best friend is more perfect than anything else. It isn't that he doesn't love her or maybe even doesn't want to be with her. It's that he knows better than to believe that he could really believe what she wants for the rest of her life. He offers her a smile, maybe hoping to convince them both that he's okay either way; "if you want to talk about it, we can talk about it."

"I don't want to lose you," she replies.

And it's simple that she'd say that, very to the point and a feeling that he understands completely; his fingers slide along her skin as he swallows. "You aren't going to lose me, babe. No matter what."

"Good, I would hate that," she says; she presses her lips to his in a fleeting gesture.

He thinks that maybe the saying is right, _as much as things change they do stay the same_.

* * *

Arizona releases a heavy hearted sigh as she pulls her bags behind her through the airport. The plane that she's on is one of the last flights out and the airport is relatively slow considering the time of day, but it could be because it's a random Tuesday between Thanksgiving and Christmas. All she knows is that she needs to leave before she tricks herself into staying.

She didn't offer Callie a proper goodbye, despite her desire to. She doesn't want to leave her girlfriend, not when she's never loved someone like this, but she's doing this for them both. They need to break up before it's too late because they want different things. The last thing she wants is for them to despise each other, which is exactly what will happen if they aren't careful.

She swallows, checks her baggage at the gate before strapping her carry on over her shoulder and heading towards security. If she doesn't move fast, she'll turn around. She keeps telling herself that it's better she leaves; she can hear her voice waver in her head and she hasn't quite convinced herself.

She reminds herself to breathe; it's better that she keeps walking and she boards that plane and she doesn't come back, not for a very long time.

* * *

April Kepner has found the position of Chief Resident to be particularly difficult because her colleagues don't respect her knowledge as a doctor. They don't know her, not really, and the don't want to get to know. At least that's what she thinks.

She had a crush on Alex for like 5 minutes but that quickly went away when she found out that he would sleep with his best friend's girlfriend. Maybe it's because she saw how many morals he seemed to have by doing that and she realized that his morals would never match hers. Part of her thinks that maybe it's because Jackson is her best friend and she's even having a hard time being friends with Lexie now - even though Jackson has seemed to forgive her.

She sees them laughing and joking on occasion and she gets a little jealous because he's supposed to be doing that with her. Lexie had her chance and she ruined it, she shouldn't get another chance. But Jesus would be upset with her for saying something. She understands that it's human nature to get jealous and to want a connection, but she doesn't want to disappoint Jesus by making her internal thoughts external.

So, she bites her lip and keeps her opinion to herself. She silently vows to tell Jackson the next time they are alone that she misses her friend. She's sure that will make everything okay.

Just then, she stumbles on Callie in a room, tears in her eyes; Jesus would want her to be kind and comfort her, she thinks.

* * *

The visit to Seattle made Amelia realize how much she misses her brother and Addison and even Mark, and when it comes time to leave she would really rather not. There's just something about when it comes time for her mom to leave (since her sisters had already gone home), she just isn't ready. Nancy had already informed Derek that David had the kids for Christmas so her and their mom would be back then.

Everyone else was going to be staying in town for Christmas and Nancy couldn't secure the time off for Thanksgiving like she could for Christmas. Derek said that they could all stay with him since he had enough room for all of them. And then Nancy insisted to have Addison time without even bothering to ask if it was weird for them. It wasn't, but it had potential to be awkward for Addison, Derek, Meredith, even Mark given the recent admission.

But of course, there isn't any such thing as awkward when it comes to them. Derek is happy and all he wants is for his best friends to be happy too. Even if that means each other.

Amelia is sure that this is what she needs to do so she can repair whatever was damaged with her brother. She doesn't tell anyone, but he's her favorite person in the world (even though Mark and Addison and her Mom are close). All she wants is for her big brother to be proud of her. She wonders if maybe they will let her transfer her fellowship to Seattle. Her brother is a great surgeon, the best teacher.

She begs him to help her out, to get her a job because she's actually a really good surgeon and he will see that if he just gives her a chance. He gets her a 30 day trial with Charlotte and Richard's approval. Both of them as favors to him. He tells her not to mess up.

She wonders if he knows how much harder that makes it, but then she holds Zachary and she forgets that she'd ever made mistakes. She's the only one staying at Derek's house, not where he was living before. It makes her feel special that he lets her have her own room in her house.

She sees Alex Karev and she forgets what being good is like.

* * *

Mark has been mostly dreading the time that ends up being just him and Derek since Thanksgiving, the revelation was kind of loaded. He doesn't really know how to answer any questions that Derek may have so he's done a pretty good job at avoiding the situation entirely. He knows Derek well enough to know that he's going to ask questions that Mark hasn't yet been able to ask himself.

But then Derek asked Mark if he would go shopping with him and Zachary for Christmas presents. He knows that Derek only said Zachary because Mark wouldn't be able to say no to spending time with the 6 month old. He grumbles a little the whole way out the door because he knows how it's going to go; lucky for him, Addison had been called into work.

So far he's been able to fend off any questions by shrugging and saying _ask Addison_. Secretly, he's hoped that someone would report back to him what she said, but they've said nothing. He wonders if everyone is that afraid to ask her and he's considered the lesser of the two evils.

But when Derek opens his mouth, he knows that his ability to avoid it has calm to an immediate halt; "so, since you're sleeping together, does that mean you're together?"

"If you're asking me if we are Mark and Addison like you were Derek and Addison then I'm going to say I don't know," he replies. He wishes he had answers for himself more than ones to offer Derek. Derek looks at him pointedly like he isn't convinced. "I don't know man, I mean, this is Addison we're talking about here. We talked about talking about it and all that was said is that she didn't want to lose me. I certainly don't want to lose her. I don't know the details of it though."

"How could you not know?" Derek asks, nose contorted upwards in confusion.

"I don't want to complicate it with definitions and labels. I just," his thought process tapers off and he lightly shakes his head. He expels a slightly exasperated sigh and drags a hand through his hair. "I mean, I'm not sleeping with anybody else. I can't even remember the last person I slept with before her."

"That's a little deep for you," Derek teases.

"Heh," Mark absently agrees, "maybe I'm just tired of the game and I like that someone is there when I come home."

"Without having a deep meaningful conversation, I don't think you're being fair," Derek says with a light shake of his head. He doesn't even know what he's looking for, he just knows that he needs to get everyone some Christmas presents. Mark prefers shopping online; "What are you going to do if you come home one day and she isn't there?"

"I don't know, Derek. I just know that things are what they are and when they aren't anymore they aren't," Mark admits.

Derek gives him a quick nod and seemingly drops the subject; Mark is fairly certain that by instilling those questions he is doing just what he intended to do.

"So, the trying to have a baby thing is still happening?"

He smirks, "sex typically makes babies, yes."

* * *

Lexie isn't sure why it's so important that Derek be hand delivered a copy of the scans from his patient, but whatever. She'd hopped in Meredith's car and drove right over. Approaching the front desk with scans in hand, she spots a blonde man behind the desk.

"Excuse me," she says.

He offers her a tight smile and lifts his gaze to her, "can I help you?"

"Yeah, I'm here to see Doctor Shepherd," she replies; she can't help the smile that touches the corners or her eyes.

"Which one?" He asks with a small laugh.

She laughs too; "Derek Shepherd. He's my brother-in-law. Oh, and I brought those scans he requested from the hospital."

"Oh, let me show you the way," he says with a slightly apologetic look.

She follows him to Derek's office and when he offers her a smile and a nod before walking away, she can't help watching him walk away. His eyes are so blue, but the way his voice lingers in her head is what's got her watching him leave. She swallows, collects herself before she lightly wraps on Derek's door and walking in.

It takes her a little bit longer than she thought it would to collect herself.

* * *

"Hey," Addison says to Teddy as she walks into the attending lounge. Teddy lifts her head to Addison, her eyes taking a few moments to catch up. She'd been deep in thought about Henry because he hasn't been feeling particularly well since before Thanksgiving even though he's tried extra hard to pretend like he's okay so they can celebrate the holidays accordingly. "Everything okay?"

"Uh," Teddy lightly shakes her head, unable to voice her thoughts. She hasn't really told anyone else what's been going on lately, how badly she thinks Henry is doing. Her biggest worry now is that he won't even make it through the holidays. She thinks that would literally kill her. "Henry isn't doing so well."

"Honey, what's wrong?"

She feels the cushion shift beneath her as Addison sits relatively closer than normal so she can comfort her. It takes everything in her to hold tears back, not wanting to lose her composure over something that hasn't even happened yet. She doesn't know what to do anymore.

"He just is starting to feel fatigued. There are tumors in his chest. I can hear them when he breathes, when he sleeps I press my ear to his chest and I just know," Teddy admits, "what if he doesn't make it?"

"Oh, honey, I don't know," Addison wraps her arm over Teddy's shoulder and rubs soothingly at her arm, "you can always set up an appointment with Pete. It's a long shot, but he's really good."

"I'm all out of other ideas," she replies.

Addison offers her a tight smile, "it's worth a shot."

* * *

It kills her how much she wants a baby. Some days, Addison thinks that she can feel her uterus ache before she decides that part is probably just her imagination. Other days, she thinks that she's never going to get pregnant. Sure, they tried in vitro months ago and they've been trying the _old fashioned way_, as Mark calls it, for only a month, but she'd hoped that she would see some results by now.

She wonders if it's her, if it's because she's in her forties, but it could be Mark. It probably isn't, but it could be. She only tells herself that because she likes the reassurance that it maybe isn't her. She questions if she was ever even supposed to be a mother, but no matter how many times she tells Mark, he just tells her that he's sure that she is.

She isn't sure that he gets the mechanics of it all. She's been considering going to see Jake and have him run tests without talking to Mark. He'd just be charming and successful at consoling her to the point that she would believe him and think she doesn't need to go if she told him. She loves him for that because he always makes her believe in everything, his faith in her is comforting, but she also hates it because his optimism isn't always reality.

She loves Mark with her whole heart, she really does, but she's just worried that something is keeping her from getting pregnant.

She's almost afraid to keep trying to have a baby because if it never happens it may actually kill her. In addition to that, she'll let her best friend down if she can't ever have a baby. And they certainly can't adopt, no social worker would give two single people who just desire sharing parental duties a baby. Their only shot is to have a baby that is half him and half her.

She's been lucky that no one has asked her if she's sure that she wants to have a baby with Mark, but if they had she would be able to tell them all of the qualities that she loves about him and would be beyond thrilled to see her child have. But she's loved him her entire adult life and they don't really have feelings for each other; sure, they love each other but they aren't in love with each other. Really, if they were going to fall in love they would have by now.

All of this insecurity and then she holds Zachary and she is reminded of all of the reasons that they are doing this. They want a baby as beautiful as Zach, but one that is theirs. She wants a baby and she doesn't think she can handle watching everyone else be parents when it's something that she's wanted to bad.

Holding Zachary reminds her not give up hope because she can be a mom if she just stops obsessing about it. At least that's what was written in all of the books that she's read. The studies that she's read say the same thing, say that the moment couples adopt they stop stressing about procreating and that when they have a baby.

She must drift off to sleep or something because she wakes up to Mark's lips on her forehead and his fingers sliding through her hair; "Derek's here to get Zach."

"Oh, sorry," she mutters while scratching at her eyes, "I must have fallen asleep."

"It's okay," Derek says with a grin.

She smiles, "I hope he sleeps tonight."

"I'm sure he will. He looks like he had a good time with his Aunt Addie," he replies, putting Zach in the car seat. "Thanks, Honey."

"You're welcome, sweetheart," she replies absently; Derek's lips touch her cheek and she presses hers to his in return.

Mark shuts the door behind Derek and Zach, and she offers him a tired smile as she extends her hand. He takes it and follows her lead into her bedroom, and unbuttoning his jeans and letting them drop to the floor. He tosses his shirt into the pile and slides into bed on the other side of her. He ends up in the middle just like he always sleeps.

"Everything okay, Red?" He asks voice barely above a whisper.

He presses his front into her back, slipping his arms around her as his lips press into the back of her neck. She tiredly smiles even though he can't see her face. She entwines their fingers and turns slightly in his arms to fuse her mouth to his.

Her lips linger on his for a bit longer than normal before she mutters, "better now."

She feels his eyes trace her face as she slides a little further down into the bed, wrapping her arms around his torso and resting her head on his chest; she almost doesn't know if it's just about a baby anymore.

* * *

Alex has been avoiding everyone since Thanksgiving. That totals to 16 days of going to work, doing his job, and keeping his mouth shut. Addison is now his attending since Arizona left and she hasn't said anything; in fact, they've barely said anything to each other. He kind of likes the silence.

Arizona used to talk all of the time. Lexie used to chit chat in his ear when all he wanted to do was fuck so he could go to sleep. Hell, even Meredith and Cristina try to make him participate in _girl talk_ from time to time. Usually he just grumbles until he's excused, or until Jackson arrives because he'll give input.

He doesn't really see Jackson anymore. Not on accident. Certainly not on purpose.

A few days ago, he was sitting in a corner booth and he caught a glimpse of Jackson and Lexie talking with tight smiles like they were forced. He noticed how they repaired things. Not fully, but enough that they can sit together and have a conversation. He's happy for them, really, but he lost two of the people he was closest to.

Plus, Meredith is mad at him for breaking her sister's heart; Cristina couldn't care less. Even April is more annoying than usual. At least he's seen Amelia around.

When he hears the bell at the door he thinks that maybe it's Amelia because she said she'd meet him there after work, but it's been almost 2 hours and she still hasn't shown. He wonders if he should keep waiting, if he should even bother. He doesn't realize he's holding his breath until she walks in.

He feels a smile spread across his face that doesn't even falter when Jackson comes in close behind her. She fuses her mouth to his before even saying hello and he silently appreciates how she tastes like coconut and mint. She slides into the booth beside him.

"Hey," she says, "you got a head start."

"You're late," he muses teasingly.

She smirks, "oh, I'm right on time. Don't you know that a lady is never late?"

"You're not a lady," he counters with a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. She smacks him in the chest which causes a laugh to get caught in his lungs; she smiles too, his fingers curling around her knee beneath the table. He pecks her lips - "you're cute though."

"Charming," Amelia remarks. Her fingers circle his palm, guiding his hand a little further up her leg before pushing it back down to her knee. He half pouts in response and he likes the way her smile touches her eyes. "Interested in getting me a drink?"

"You betcha," he replies.

He thinks that maybe he won't be able to patch things up with everyone else right now, but until then he can make nice with Amelia; they will all have to forgive him eventually.

* * *

Mark toyed with the idea of making dinner before finally deciding that he didn't want to mess with the hassle of cooking and just went to get take out when he left work. He probably should have checked in with Addison before he left but he figured that he knows what she likes from that little Chinese take out place down the street so it was moot. He beats her home and for a quick minute he wonders if she's even coming home.

Audibly, he blames Derek for ever putting into his head the possibility that Addison might not be there one day if they don't talk. Although Derek might have a point in saying that he and Addison need to talk about it, figure out what's going on and say it out loud so they are on the same page. As much as Mark dreads being the one to break it up first, he thinks he is going to be forced to.

He flips on the kitchen lights and sets the plastic bag down on the counter, the distinct ruffling of plastic slicing through the silence of the apartment. He almost cringes at the sound of the echo, the way it settles on his eyes reminding him of what Derek said; he immediately wonders if Derek was right. He lightly shakes his head, a sigh of relief absently escaping him when he hears the click of her heels on the wooden floor.

He can't help the smile the spreads over his lips as he tilts his head in her direction; he calls out, "hey."

"Hey," she replies tiredly. His eyebrows furrow as he pulls the take out boxes from the sack and sets them on the counter. She ditches her coat and scarf at the door, and drags a hand through her long hair. "Do I smell food?"

"Yep," he replies proudly, "Chinese take out from down the street. I hope you're hungry."

"You do realize that we're only two people," she pauses in her words, closing the distance between them to press her lips into his, "right?"

He grins, "I am fully aware, but I also know how you like options."

"I usually have to beg you for options," she counters, cocked eyebrow.

"Don't belittle the gesture," he chastises. He sees her half-grin out of the corner of his eye and he's a little comforted that she seems to be relaxing more the longer that she is in his presence. He shrugs, "besides, I thought maybe when we were done eating you could take Callie the left overs. You know, make sure she gets a little food. God only knows the last time she ate."

"Good thinking," she praises, pointing her index finger at him.

He tries not to get caught up in the moment that they seem to so easily fall together, to not feel comfort by the way she seeked him out and not the other way around. It takes everything in him to not practically jump where he's standing, attempting to downgrade his nerves by releasing a breath to relax him. It only comes out shaky.

He can feel her body press into his side and it distracts him from the food. She tucks her fingers beneath his chin and tilts his mouth towards her, her mouth closing over his. His lips immediately part, tongue darting out to meet hers as his fingers press into her back and prompt a sigh fall ot of her mouth.

He smiles against her mouth, teeth sliding over her lips, and she pulls back in a quick movement. Her forehead touches his chin, nearly hitting it too hard and causing his neck to falter a little. His eyebrows furrow, hand lifting to push the hair out of her face.

"I don't know that we should keep trying for a baby," she admits barely above a whisper.

He presses his lips together, mouth going dry; his jaw tightens, "what?"

She swallows. He sees her throat muscles move in her neck as he tries to guide her gaze to his. So far, it doesn't seem to be working. She releases a breath into his neck and he feels the hot tears entwine with the short hairs at his neck.

"We've just, we've tried like a thousand different ways and none of them seem to be working. Maybe it's because I'm freaking out about it, or maybe it's just because we're not supposed to have a baby. I don't know. All I know is that every day that we don't have a baby, it breaks my heart and I don't know how much more I can take," she lightly shakes her head.

"Shh." He lifts his hands and wipes at her tears with his thumbs; his mouth hangs open, racking his brain for the right thing to say, "I just want you happy. You're my best friend, Addie-"

"And the love of your life," she supplies, voice cracking as her words seem to ride the fence between teasing and serious.

He smiles a little, lips brushing over her raw cheekbones, "and the love of my life, and I would do anything to see your face light up and a smile to permanently be on your face. _Anything_, but I can't watch your heart break because you were hopeful that we'd have a baby."

He doesn't say anything more, just slides his arms around her frame and tucks her head beneath his chin. Minutes pass by, feeling like hours, and he feels her hot breath trail across his throat as she plants her lips on his Adam's Apple. A shiver skates up his spine at the contact, his body already prepared for it to be the end of everything.

"I'm not ready for you let go yet," she says.

He laughs in the bellows of his throat; reassuring, "I'm not."

She angles her mouth towards his, pushing up on her tiptoes to press her mouth against his. His breath collides with her cheek, her lipstick smudging in the slightest at the corner of her mouth. Her tongue barely touches his before she's tugging on the hem of his gray sweater, pulling it off of his back. The cold chill of the room collides with his flesh and he realizes that maybe it isn't the end of everything.

* * *

Lathargically, she starts a checklist:

Shower. _Check._

Hair. _Check._

Make up. _Check._

Clothes. _Check._

(Thank God she remembered those because that would have been a repeat of a nightmare she had once.)

Phone, pager, purse. _Check, check, check._

Addison thinks she's good to go, for the most part. She's tired from that early morning wake up call that had Mark squirming and sliding his hands in places that they shouldn't be on a very cranky, sleeping person. But somehow, he'd succeeded in making it well worth her while.

She's going to attribute it to one of his many skills with his hands because she had not been expecting to wake up to _Big Sloan_ at 3:30 when she had to be up at 4:45. At first she'd been quick to say, _do whatever you want, just don't wake me up_, but then he did this thing with his tongue that she's never had happen before. She is no longer complaining, despite the fact that when her alarm went off she was almost back to sleep.

She halts in her step, catching sight of him lying in the middle of her bed, curled up with her pillow and sheets. She quietly laughs, shakes her head at how easily he's fallen back to sleep even though she made no extra effort to be quiet. She purses her lips together, blackberry in hand, and reaches out to touch his back with her fingertips.

"Honey," she says in his ear.

"Yeah, baby?" He mutters, scratches at his eyes like it's a habit. He peels his eyes open and his big, blue orbs reflect the light from the street. He swallows, rolls over onto his back. "Everything okay, Red?"

"I'm leaving for work," she answers with a small nod.

"Call in sick," he says, a glint shining in his sleepy eyes. He wraps his hand around her wrist and tugs just a little, enough for her top to cut a little lower. He smirks as his fingers find her cleavage. "We can lay in bed all day. I'll even make you chickn noodle soup."

"You're a bad influence. Don't try to get me into trouble, Doctor Sloan," she counters with a teasing smile.

"Me?" He feigns hurt, grabbing at his chest, "I would never."

"Mmhmm," she replies, unconvinced, "maybe if you're extra nice, I will come home for lunch."

"I like the sound of that," he replies innocently, "have a good day at work."

She stands up and before she can walk away, he sits upright and slaps her ass; he gives her a wink when her mouth falls open in response - she makes it home for lunch.

* * *

"I have a late surgery," Derek counters. She's already on the receiving end of him fending her off and working late and it isn't even 7 am yet. They both seem to have a late surgery and no one who can pick Zachary up from nursery. Meredith watches her husband haphazardly shrug with a piercing gaze, "you'll have to pick him up."

"It's my first full day back, I can't just leave early," she snarls, "I'll just have Lexie do it."

"Lexie will be in surgery with me," he corrects. He follows her up the stairs, baby monitor in hand on their way to Zach's room. His eyebrows pop up on his forehead in question, "Cristina?"

"She has some dinner thing with Owen and his mom," Meredith explains. She lifts a hand to her forehead and absently rubs at it. She glances over her shoulder before pushing the door open to the baby's room. "Can Amelia pick him up?"

"I'm sure Amy would love to. She's supposed to be with Mark though," he replies, "I'll just go wake her up and run it by her."

"All right," Meredith agrees with finality.

Derek disappears down the hallway where Amelia has been staying and Meredith shakes her head as she smiles at the sight of her baby. She reaches down to pick him up, all dressed and ready to go because Derek had dressed him while she was in the shower. Zach laughs and throws his arms around.

"Daddy's silly, isn't he? Yes he is."

* * *

She wakes up to the shrill ringing of her phone on the night stand. She really has been meaning to change it to a less incessant ring tone, something that has musical vibes that don't immediately make her head pound. She has to pry herself from beneath the heavy arm draped across her waist so she can reach for her phone; when the screen lights up that it's her big brother she inwardly groans.

Amelia's only been in Seattle for 2 weeks and she's already in trouble with big brother - literally.

"Derek?" She whispers roughly, "hey."

She braces herself for his slightly judgmental tone; he releases a rushed breath, "Amy, where are you?"

"Out," she replies hastily, "I fell asleep over at a friend's house."

"But you don't-," he cuts himself off; she can hear his sigh of exasperation, "Alex. You know what? Whatever. I was just calling to see if you'd pick Zach up from nursery today."

"I can do that," she says.

"Try to leave your boyfriend out of it and make it just you and Mark, would you?"

She rolls her eyes, "he's not...fine, I'll be there to get him."

She hangs up he phone just as she feels an am tug on her waist, his muscles flexing beneath her fingertips as she touches his arm. She feels his lips press against her skin, mouth hot and humid from the moisture, and it causes a shiver to skate down her spine. She tightens her grasp on the sheet, determined to keep the cold air from getting to her more than he is.

"I hope your brother doesn't make it a habit of waking us up before the alarm," Alex says, sleep laden voice; he drags his teeth across her shoulder.

She laughs in the slightest, "maybe you're getting ahead of yourself just a bit."

"Oh, so you think this will be the only time you end up sleeping over?" He challenges.

"You sound so sure of yourself," she counters while quirking an eyebrow. She feels his hand slide up her leg, his eyes barely even poised open. Her lips fall open, unable to find the words to protest when he's touching her like that and his mouth is on her skin. "Are you playing all of your cards?"

"Not quite, but is it working?" He asks with a grin.

She smiles back, "a lady never tells."

Her mouth touches his throat and her lips tingle when he laughs.

* * *

The mall is crowded and there are lots of different voice and babies screaming - the thing he notices more than anything else is the kids screaming. He would think that any normal person's first reaction is that something is wrong; a child so small shouldn't be so...loud, but Mark finds out quickly that most people see it as a completely normal thing. It just makes him nervous and clausterphobic and slightly annoyed.

He's beginning to think that maybe he won't be very good at the parenting thing if one trip to the mall during the Christmas season annoys him this much. He closes his fist and absently taps his knuckles against his thigh like he's ticking away the time before he can leave. And maybe he is, anxious and hot like he's having trouble breathing.

"Maybe we should just go," he surmises outloud to Amelia.

She wraps her hand around his wrist, halting in their trek forward because she isn't sure she can safely push Zachary's stroller with one hand, "thought you wanted to get her the _best gift ever_."

He narrows his eyes, unsure if she's teasing or what. He fuses his lips together, dropping his gaze to a falling asleep Zachary and attempted to drown the noise out. It isn't working, it's never worked, but he thought that he would at least give it a shot.

He absently shrugs, "I'll just order her something online."

"If you think you can shop online for the rest of your life then you're a dreamer," she teases.

"Obviously," he counters with a sigh as she begins to walk further into the mall. He isn't sure he can keep brushing elbows with strangers, fighting the urge to scream. He doesn't get it, why Addison's favorite time of year is Christmas. "Come on, Amy."

She smirks at his whine; "we will just stop at one of these stores and get Addie something and then we can go. What do you want to get her?"

"I don't know," he groans; it seems that all of his ideas have evaded him since he started to feel, well, suffocated, "it has to be perfect. Christmas is her favorite season and I'd hate to disappoint her."

"So, is this you buying a present for Addison? Or you buying a present for your girlfriend?" Amelia muses.

"Shut up, Amy," he replies coldly, "I see what you're getting at and I can't answer that."

"Can't as in it's a secret? Or can't as in don't know?" She asks.

He snarls, "what's with the questions? It's me, Mark, buying a Christmas present for Addison as I do every year."

"Okay, but since when did you start stressing out about what to get her?"

He lightly shakes his head, sighs, drags a hand through his hair. He takes three more paces alongside Amelia and glances at Zachary. He swallows, "since we started sleeping together, I guess. I'm just afraid that everything means something different than it did before."

Amelia smirks and that's when he realizes that all she was doing is playing shrink with him. He hates that she's figured all of these things out about people but she can barely figure things out about herself. He remembers when she was a kid and would follow him around until he gave her a cookie from the cookie jar. He misses the innocence.

"I don't even know what to get her," he admits, "she's so hard to shop for because she has everything she wants."

"Get her something she likes," Amelia suggests.

"Like shoes from high end shoe stores, designer clothing, gaudy sunglasses, jewelry with lots of diamonds and silver, antique furniture, a personal chef, pastries from the bakery by the hospital, or the smell of after shave?" He rambes. She quirks her eyebrow and when he notices her look he offers her a haphazard grin. "Sorry. I've just known her for a very long time. I also know that she likes her coffee with milk and two sugars, she likes her red meat cooked medium, and she likes to wear my clothes to sleep in. Her shampoo is this mint mixed with raspberries scent and I think it's because she uses this menthal shampoo and a raspberry conditioner, and her skin always smells like vanilla with a hint of cinnamon."

Amelia can't hold a straight face anymore and she laughs hard enough that it grates against her throat.

"What?" He asks sharply.

"Do you hear yourself? You know everything about her, probably even every detail of her menstral cycle including what brand of tampons she uses, and you still are worried about what to get her for a gift," she replies.

He sighs, "I know. It shouldn't be this hard."

"Well, you love her, honey, and no one said that was easy," Amelia counters while she leads them into a jewelry store.

"I never said that I love her," he replies breathlessly, "why would - why would you say that?"

"Okay," Amelia replies with a smirk.

Zachary starts to cry as the stroller comes to a halt even though it's mostly silent for the first time since they arrived at the mall. Mark makes a sympathetic pout as he bends down to unbuckle Zachary and pick him up. He makes a noise that resembles a coo, but collides with an 'awww' in the air.

"It's all right, buddy, I got ya," he says, bouncing just a little as he holds Zachary to his chest. Amelia makes her way around the store, glancing into the glass cases as he tries to hush the baby. He welcomes the interruption, keeping him from having to participate in the conversation any longer. "You're okay."

The woman behind the counter takes a long look at Zachary before offering them a smile, "he looks just like his mom;" Zachary quiets down with ease, "you're a good dad."

Mark's cheeks blush a little, "oh, um, he isn't mine. I'm just the uncle."

"Hey, Marky," Amelia calls; his blush deepens when she calls him that - the shit she gets away with, "I think I found the perfect gift you can get her."

He offers the jeweler a slight nod and pushes the stroller through the cases with one hand; despite the error, he buys the jewelry from her anyway.


	5. nothing stays the same

**a/n (p1): mark and addison have never been together, addison and derek were married but aren't anymore, and there will be multiple ships in this but it is primarily mark/addison, some (okay, a lot or even _most_) of the history is different**

**a/n (p2): read anything by lynn ( sliceofperfection ) and you won't regret it; my personal fav is sick cycle carousal**

* * *

Addison Adrienne Forbes Montgomery loves Christmas above all other times of the year. She's always loved Christmas; even as a little girl, she was filled with joy when the snow would fall, when Christmas moves graced her television, when the Christmas hymns echoed throughout her brain. She could barely sit in class without bouncing in her chair, gapped teeth and hair in pigtails while she absently hums along to _Jingle Bells_.

She had been efficiently distracted during her tests (and usually come the new year, her father would ask her what happened with a slight, teasing grin). She'd run from the bus in the snow, the crunch beneath each step distinctly present with each movement, and burst through the front door. Barely remembering to kick her shoes off at the front door, she was beyond excited to decorate the house with the lights and the decorations.

She's always believed that Christmas makes you want to be with the people you love, and right now she wants nothing more than to spend her holidays with Mark and Amelia and Derek and Meredith and Zachary - her new favorite addition. Although technically Zachary isn't her family, she still loves him with all of her heart, but there's nothing more that she wants than to have a baby of her own. Some days she forgets that she's decided and already told Mark that they should quit trying.

She's trying to remain positive, distracting herself with Christmas and instilling the Christmas spirit into other people so she doesn't find herself saddened. She's been surprised by Mark's efforts and the way he willingly dragged a Christmas tree up 8 flights of stairs since it wouldn't fit in the elevator. She doesn't know why he's being so nice, being so different and doing things without putting up too much of a fight but she isn't going to question it.

Christmas is only 12 days away (and suddenly she's singing _on the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me_), and the apartment is glowing with lights illuminating the tree. The needles fall from the tree and grapple to the floor, the scent of her perfect Christmas filling the air; the tree is relatively empty beneath it, only scattered with presents for assorted friends, even one for her brother. She takes in a deep breath, letting her senses fill with the array of Christmas.

Mark used to tease her for how much she loved the Christmas season, inhaling hot chocolate and tucking her feet beneath her for warmth. He would tease her, but ultimately sit beside her while Derek was on the other wise. She'd tell him to drink his hot chocolate, kicking him in the thigh, and eventually hiding her feet beneath his leg for warmth. Derek didn't mind, or if he did then he never said anything.

She wants things to not be so different right now, a sense of familiarity.

As _It's A Wonderful Life_plays across the 55" television, and she really doesn't get why Mark insisted on such a large television but she guesses it was probably a guy thing, she briefly begins to wonder when Mark will be home because there's nothing she wants more than to recreate those moments from when they were younger. She drags her fingers through her hair, letting the locks fall back into place as a shiver skates down her spine. It's getting increasingly chillier and she cuddles her cup a little closer to her face for a bit of extra heat.

She outwardly groans when there's a knock on the door, not even sure who it could be. She pushes herself to her feet, unintentionally shivering when the cold air of the room seeps through the threads in her clothes to touch her skin (not that she's bothered to do anything but kick off her heels anyway). Her feet are practically numb after all of the years of wearing less than comfortable high heels but that still doesn't keep her heels from slamming against the wood floor with each step; she's always heavy footed once she abandons her heels.

The door is only a smidge open before she is gasping for air, her chest tightening with surprise when she catches a glimpse at who is behind the door. She can't tell if it's a pleasant surprise or one that she is already dreading, hoping that she can find some way out of it. But before she can muster the courage to shut the door in their faces, Archer is grinning at her with sparkling teeth that prompts her to swallow in defeat.

Her eyes don't quite connect with her father's and she certainly isn't able to flit her eyes in her mother's direction, so instead she steps into Archer's arms and gives him a greeting hug. He smirks, she can feel it against her hairline, but there's a certain comfort in the way he encircles his arms around her and hugs her like he used to. She can almost count away the seconds before her mother's eyebrow is popping up on her forehead in that judgmental way she mastered so long ago.

"You aren't even going to say hello, Addison? That's very rude, dear," Bizzy says.

Addison holds a heavy sigh in as she pulls back from Archer's embrace, swallowing in an attempt to make herself find the words to ward off the initial shock; she forces a smile across her face, "I had no idea you were coming."

Her dad smiles, the same smile as Archer's, "we thought we'd surprise you. Well, your mom did."

"Of course," Addison mutters. She moves around her brother to hug The Captain.

"Don't mumble, dear," her mother says as she presses her lips to Addison's cheek in a snooty manner, "it's unattractive."

"Yes, ma'am," Addison replies; she glances over her shoulder and gives her apartment the once over, not quite as clean as she'd like it to be in her mother's presence. She silently hopes that she can sneak in some straightening up during conversation without her mother noticing. She forces a smile on her face, "you could have called."

"Ah, no need," Archer replies as he invites himself in, "my little sister has always been accommodating."

She bites her bottom lip to stifle a huff, moving out of the way so that Bizzy and The Captain can enter - besides, it isn't like she can leave them out in the hall while she straightens up the apartment. It isn't horrible, just Mark's sweater on the back of the couch fresh out of the laundry and a few too many pair of her shoes lining the wall by the front door, not to mention a few books about pregnancy on the shelf. She can't wait to hear Bizzy's opinion on that.

She shuts the front door and follows them into the apartment, nearly halting in her step when her father heads straight for the kitchen. She grumbles a little, hoping that it will be inaudible to Bizzy's ears, slightly annoyed because it's been less than five minutes and her kitchen is already being expectantly raided for alcohol. She swallows to avoid rolling her eyes as Bizzy sits on the couch and she braces herself for the opinion about the blanket not being precisely draped over the back of the couch.

"Addison, dear, is this how you live?"

She sighs; her father stops closing cabinets to give Bizzy a stern look, "Bizzy, don't."

"Come on, Bizzy, lighten up. It's Christmas," Archer adds. He has a glass of ice in hand as he comes to Addison's side, leaning heavily against her as he wraps his arm around her shoulder. He grins as the ice shakes in his glass, cabinets slamming behind her again, "I bet Addie just finished decorating and we caught her at a bad time. Right, Sis?"

"Oh," she mutters, words lost on her because it's all seemingly overwhelming, "yes. What do you think, Archie?"

"It looks wonderful," her father supplies from the kitchen, "Aha! Scotch? Is this all that you have? I didn't know you drank scotch."

"I don't," she counters.

Archer elbows her, "Derek still coming around?"

"Yes, just not like you think," she replies absently, "I don't think I have any vodka. I haven't been drinking much lately so I'm not exactly sure."

"How have you been able to survive? Alcohol is like water. It's in your veins," Archer teases with another nudge; he retreats back to the kitchen and fills his glass with scotch - not exactly what any of them want but they are relieved to have alcohol. He calls out, "I still find it hard to believe that you haven't been drinking. It's the first rule to Montgomery survival."

"Leave her alone," The Captain interjects fleetingly.

Archer drops onto the sofa beside Bizzy and offers her a glass of scotch. She hopes that Bizzy gets alcohol in her soon, not that she probably hasn't already had a few, because she sooner she does then the less likely she is to nitpick. She relaxes a little bit when she feels the Captain squeeze her shoulder on his way to the living room to sit in the chair closest to the television.

She swallows and manages to make her way into the living room, sitting on the loveseat across from the Captain's chair on the opposite side of the coffee table. Her hand is the only one without a drink and she wonders how she's going to survive this interaction without numbing herself a little bit. She tucks her feet up beneath her as Bizzy leans forward, eyebrow quirked like she's finally completed sizing up the apartment and is about to let her judgments fly.

"What does your boyfriend do?" Bizzy inquires as she shakes her glass. The ice rattles around and the scotch sloshes in Bizzy's glass when she leans forward and trains her gaze on her daughter. Archer forgoes any kind of manners he was raised to have and settles his shoes on the edge of the coffee table. Addison silently waits for Bizzy to chastise him but she doesn't; she struggles with how to answer the question because Mark isn't technically her boyfriend. "I'm waiting."

"Mark and I live together," she clarifies.

"I wasn't aware that you had even begun dating your ex-husband's best friend," Bizzy says, voice lining with disapproval, "kind of tacky, dear, don't you think?"

"We aren't dating," Addison replies sternly.

She can typically only last 5 minutes before her family starts to push her to her limit. She has to take them in stride and this time they are very much in her face. She nervously rubs at her leg, the short hairs standing on their ends from the cold chill her mother is giving her.

"I find that hard to believe," Bizzy says.

"Come on, Bizzy, give her a break. She's having her own version of Sex and the City," Archer adds with a small laugh. The Captain doesn't even grin, just perches the edge of the glass between his slightly parted lips and takes a mouthful. Her eyes flit from her father to the television to check for what she's watching. "Getting laid?"

"Archer," the Captain interrupts firmly; he's always the peace keeper but he's probably hurt them all the most, "let's be appropriate, shall we?"

"It's fine," Addison says, forcing a smile.

Just then the door opens and Mark walks through, shrugging his jacket off of his shoulders without even glancing in her direction - :honey, I'm home." She stills, unable to gauge what her family's reaction to his familiar joke will be. His smile slowly fades at the sight of them and he swallows. "Well, hello, Montgomerys."

"Marky Mark," Archer greets; the soles of his shoes colliding with the floor as he leans forward and turns slightly to glance over his shoulder, "I think Bizzy was just inquiring about your sweater here."

"Cashmere," Mark replies with a smirk, "I think Addison got it for me for my birthday."

"Of course she did," Archer agrees, "she couldn't have any man of hers being less than stylish."

Mark lightly tilts his head, unsure as to what Addison has said and if he should be able to take comfort that maybe she's telling her family about them. He shrugs absently and advances into the living room, taking a seat in the open spot on the couch. His body is sluggish from the trip to the mall; it took everything out of him to be surrounded by that many people, but at least he got what he went for.

"With the exception of Derek," The Captain says.

"Derek never could get himself together," Bizzy agrees; the one thing that Bizzy and The Captain agree on is Derek. Her lips part as she takes a drink from her glass and Addison sees the muscles twitch in her face like Bizzy is trying to mask the bite. She swallows, "this scotch is horrid."

"Bizzy," Addison says. She closes her mouth as quickly as the words fall out deciding that maybe it's better she doesn't say anything. She can already tell by the bite in her tone and the way that her mouth is curved that she knows about whatever is going on between her and Mark, without the details. She tucks her bottom lip between her teeth. "It's Mark's. He's had it for a long time."

"I usually save it for special occasions but," he trails off, letting the implications settle between them.

Archer lifts his glass, "I think it's fantastic scotch."

"Bizzy just isn't much of a scotch drinker," The Captain supplies, "she prefers martini's, manhattans."

"Of course," Mark agrees, "that's where Addison gets it."

He pretends not to see the scowl on her face at the comparison and he swallows, drapes his arm over the arm of the couch and heavily leans against it. He thinks that he's stuck in a lose-lose situation right now and there's no one he can pleases. He sighs and scratches the back of his head, deciding not participating is probably better off.

"I never saw you two as compatible," Bizzy says.

"What's that?" He asks. He sees Addison swallow at of the corner of his eye and he thinks that she's not pleased with where this conversation is going. He lifts his eyebrows on his forehead in an inquisitive manner, encouraging Bizzy to elaborate.

"It's just that you're both so different. You've never been in a long-term relationship and she was married to Derek for a long time despite our disapproval. You're a plastic surgeon. You materialize woman and you don't settle down. You're a womanizer. All you want from someone is what they can do for you," Bizzy ticks off, waving her glass around, "you have horrible taste in scotch, and from what I recall, horrible taste in women. I recall you being insensitive enough to ruin my daughter's wedding by philandering around with that whore of yours and held everyone up when it came time to give your speech."

"That was a long time ago," Mark starts, "I'm a little-"

"That's what they all say. You have no morals. I heard of you sleeping with many married women when you lived in New York, breaking up so many marriages - the women in my circle of friends, their daughters were left with nothing because of you. You aren't good enough for my daughter and no matter what you do, you never will be. She's a successful doctor and al you would do is hold her back. I swear to God if you get her pregnant you will regret it."

"Excuse me, but maybe I want a family with your _daughter_, not that you've ever had much of the decency to be there for her when she needed you. You treat her like no matter what she does it will not be good enough and that just isn't fair to her," Mark challenges, "she has worked her ass off to get where she is and I've been there to see it, every single day. You don't get her, Bizzy, and you never will."

"You just want her money," Bizzy discerns.

He leans forward and locks eyes with hers, "I can make my own money."

He pushes himself to his feet and he glances at Addison, pretending that he doesn't see her jaw tensed and her lips tightened. He releases a slightly exasperated breath and lets his eyes drift closed. He wants to apologize for his outburst but he doesn't even know what he'd be sorry for. Instead, he forces a smile across his lips.

"I hope you enjoy the bottle of scotch my father gave me when I graduated from med school. I am going to bed," he says. He turns on his heel and leans down to press his lips against Addison's cheek. He lingers for maybe a moment longer than he would on normal occasions maybe just for the sake of driving Bizzy crazy. "Good night."

Mark retreats to her bedroom and the room stays quiet before Archer bursts into laughter; Addison can't get her thoughts in order, can't figure out what the hell she just witnessed.

* * *

Addison is less than thrilled when she finally makes it to bed. After having to put up with Bizzy's ranting and complaining and nitpicking for the last two hours, which seemed like a lifetime, she's finally getting the opportunity to crawl into bed after an already long day. Her family, her mother in particular, is already pushing her last nerve and Mark certainly hadn't helped right before he ditched her for bed. Granted, they aren't his family so he doesn't have to put up with them, but he didn't have to make it any worse.

And that's what has really been grating on her nerves for the last few hours. Even though Bizzy and Mark had been essentially defending her honor, she can defend herself when it comes to Mark. She still can't manage to find the courage to blow her top on Bizzy like she can Mark.

The motivation behind going into her bedroom a little bit more heated than normal with a bit more of an incentive to be louder than usual. She sighs a little heavier, shuts her door harder and he doesn't stir; she wonders if he'd decided to go to bed in her room just to really piss Bizzy off. On one hand she applauds it, on the other it just makes things worse for her.

"Mark," she says gently. He doesn't stir so she reaches across the bed and jabs him in the shoulder in an attempt to wake him up. She hears him groan in the darkness as he rolls over a little, muscles in his broad shoulders flexing. "Wake up."

"What?" He asks.

"I just wanted to let you know that they left, went to the hotel."

"Okay," he replies. His tone is kind of annoyed when he says it but his eyes aren't even open yet; he scratches at his eyes, squinting so that he can see her a bit better. He reaches out, touches her fingertips before his hand drop to the mattress. "Everything okay?"

"No, it isn't," she replies with a heavy hearted sigh. She drags her hands through her long, auburn hair as he sits upright; it takes everything in her to just not explode on him. She's on the brink, and she knows that she's going to end up unleashing everything from the night on him. "They've only been here for three hours and they're already driving me crazy."

"You could have told me that they were coming," he adds somewhat gently; his voice is strangled with sleep so it's a little hard to tell how he means it.

"I didn't know," she snaps, "they just showed up unannounced. You certainly didn't help."

"I'm sorry that I didn't appreciate being told that I'm basically a piece of shit," he retorts.

"Oh, please, you know that isn't how she meant it," she growls.

He scoffs, "I've known your mother long enough to know when she's insulting me. It may go over the _commoner's_head, but I'm not an idiot - contrary to popular belief."

"She just knows your type, honey, from being married to someone just like to for so fucking long. My father can't keep it in his pants, why would you?" She laughs.

"Maybe because you're not your mother, you can be a fucking bitch sometimes but you aren't anything near as evil as your mother," he says. He wonders how he's still defending her and she's just blowing him off, trying to rack his brain to recall if that's something she's always done after she encounters her mother or if it's just him. He can't remember, but he thinks it's mostly because she hasn't seen Bizzy since before she wasn't married to Derek. Derek doesn't take care of her anymore, he does. He watches her cross her arms over her chest and he knows the ice queen is showing now. He mutters, "I'm sorry."

He rubs at his eyes again, silence settling over the room as his labored breathing echoes throughout and bounces off of the walls; she huffs, "your apology doesn't make up for the way she's just so...infuriating."

"Like mother, like daughter," he mumbles. He's pretty sure that she hears him when jaw tightens and her eyes narrow at him. He makes his way a little closer to her, fingers pressing hard into the mattress as he moves. "She's gone now, Red, it's okay."

"Don't," she starts, moving her hands as his fingertips brush over the tops of them, "don't act like everything just goes away now. She makes me feel so small, Mark, and you sure as hell didn't help. You managed to escalate things in five minutes that usually takes a few hours."

"I didn't mean to," he counters, eyebrows now furrowing in annoyance, "did you not hear the things that she was saying to me? About me? What was I supposed to do, just sit back and take it? I'm not Derek and I don't aim to please. You must not care about me like I thought."

"Wow, that's low even for you, Mark."

"Forgive me for not wanting to listen to your mother boast about a woman that I have actually been proud of through the good times and the bad. It isn't my fault that she only ever brags when it is convenient for her or when it makes her look good. I don't have to sit there and listen to her point out all of the amazing things about you to me that she used to berate you for and I'm not going to argue with you about it anymore," he says with finality.

"You know what? You're an asshole," she spats.

He chuckles, "yeah, I am and I've never been anything different, but for once I didn't do anything that makes me an asshole."

"You started shit with my mother and then left me to fend for myself," she accuses.

"And yet you survived so just calm the fuck down."

"No thanks to you," she spits out. He reaches out and grabs her wrist, tugging her onto the bed in such a quick movement that she doesn't have time to protest. He smirks when her fingers wrap around his wrist and squeeze, nails digging into his skin until he almost feels it break. She growls deep into the bellows of her throat, low and guttural, "I can't stand you."

"You'll get over it," he says, snapping his teeth together; he wraps an arm around her waist as he unbuttons the top button on her blouse and lowers his mouth to the freshly exposed skin. He trails wet kisses across her skin; she pushes on his chest, not like she's actually protesting but gently like she's doing it for the sake of doing it. His teeth nip at her skin and she finally bothers to push him away from her. "You think just because you're attractive it means you're entitled to hold anything that I say or do over me."

"I think just because you pissed me off that I am entitled to hold it over your head," she corrects angrily.

He smirks as she pulls herself away from him, his fingers threading with hers easily despite her attempt to separate them; "so you're mad because I left you alone with mommy after I stuck up for you? Derek never-"

"Derek never had the opportunity. Bizzy wasn't threatened by him one bit. She wasn't afraid of the way he looked at me or the way I felt about him. She's scared shitless of you," she admits.

Although her voice is still firm and dripping with annoyance, he grins. He doesn't know where this is going or what it's leading to, but he hopes it's the conversation they haven't had but probably should. He wraps his hands around her waist and tugs her back towards him; her legs rest on either side of his as she straddles him, her body pulling towards his as she tries to maintain her anger.

"And how do you feel about me?" He baits.

"I feel nothing for you," she says (it sounds like she's trying to convince them both), "and it scares her that for once I can do something that she doesn't approve of just for the sake of doing it."

"Who knew you'd become such a rebel in your forties?"

"Don't be a dick," she snaps.

He smirks as his fingertips move to the front of her shirt, gliding from the first button that he'd already unbuttoned and on to the next one. Her fingers tap against his hipbones momentarily before she drags her nails up his chest. He shivers a little, the tips of his fingers grazing over her cleavage as he unbuttons the next button.

"You have such a dirty mouth on you tonight, sugar," he points out.

She feels his erection on her thigh and she half grins, "you don't seem to mind."

"No," he admits.

He tugs at the opening in her shirt to expose more skin, the swells of her breasts nearly glowing in the darkness. He lowers his mouth to her skin, swirls his tongue there as he bites and then sucks. She inhales deep instead of being able to tell him not to leave a mark. He suddenly tugs on the front of her shirt and the remaining buttons fly off.

"I hate you," she growls.

His mouth nips at her throat as he laughs; "you love me."

Her fingers thread in his hair and tug, his mouth ripping from her skin. His mouth is wet from planting wet kisses against her skin and she parts her mouth in desire because she wants to kiss him. She can't even count how long it's been since he's kissed her on the mouth, the way her lips seemingly ache for more afterward.

"I never said that," she mutters.

He snorts and closes the space between them, covering her mouth with his own and his tongue immediately delving into her slightly parted lips. He leans forward, pushing her onto her back as he finds the zipper on her skirt; finding the hem, he pulls them over her waist as his teeth collide with hers. She lifts her hips off of the bed and he tugs her skirt and her panties off in one motion.

The moment he has her clothes off and tossed somewhere onto the floor, she rolls over so she's on top but they find an area that is no longer bed until his back collides with floor. He laughs a little as the wind is knocked out of him from being squished between the floor and her at such an impact. She pulls his boxers over his hips and passed his dick and his fingers find her waist again.

She quietly moans as she sinks onto him, stilling her hips as she leans down to meet him with her mouth half way. Her tongue slides against his, battling him for control like she doesn't already have it; he trails his hand down between them, fingertip sliding against her clit until his breasts heave against his chest. Their lips part and he smirks, her mouth hanging open when she tightens her grasp on his shoulders and he continues to make small circles.

"Are you still mad at me?" He inquires with a smirk.

She's too preoccupied to answer, intent on rolling her hips until his mouth closes over her nipple. Her breath hitches in her throat as he continues to make both movements simultaneously at the same time and she's in awe of him - the way that she always is. He bites down lightly, tongue sliding up to her throat immediately after.

He buries his hand into her hair, fingers pressing into her neck until their mouths meet. She moans into his mouth as he begins to thrust upward, and it doesn't take very many thrusts until they are both climaxing at the same time. His tongue keeps circling hers for a few moments as he cups her face in his hands.

When she pulls away, he grins because she doesn't have to answer for him to know that she isn't mad at him anymore. She smirks back and once they've both captured their breath, she crawls off of him and they both get back into the bed. She feels him press a lazy kiss against her neck as she slides her arms into his shirt to pull it on over her head.

"By the way, Archer is sleeping in your bed," she informs him.

He huffs, "there's just no winning with you, is there?"

* * *

The Montgomery's don't reminisce. Maybe it's because they don't have very many memories worth reminiscing, or maybe it's just because they merely tolerate each other with the exception of Addison and Archer. Even then, she finds overbearing, overprotective, zealous, narcissistic, and a bit rebelous. She's always admired him in the way he is so carefree, does things for the sake of doing it rather than it being part of a plan. She's kind of admired them all from afar - admires them in ways that means she doesn't have to deal with them.

She toys with the idea of despising Bizzy and The Captain on a somewhat regular basis, vows that if she ever has children she will be a completely different kind of parent than either one of them (or even the both of them together, if she's being honest) ever were. Overall, she tries not to hold a grudge and just accepts that this is her life and they are her parents so there's no way to escape it. Somedays she holds more resentment towards them than others; all she knows is that she hopes to someday have new, noteworthy traditions with her own famiily - silently hoping that Archer would willingly be part of that.

She stirs awake to a cold bed, sheets rumpled, and the sound of dreadfully familiar voices coming from the living room. She struggles to peel her eyes open, her red hair spread over her pillow and blending with golden colored sheets. She stretches, her knuckles colliding with the wall behind her as she groans at the voice echoing throughout the living room.

With hesitation, she forces herself out of bed and goes into the living room clad in only underwear and Mark's sweater from before. She already knows that there isn't any way to avoid it since Archer was bound to hear what happened the night before. She just hopes that she can mask her disappointment in waking up alone, silently begging Mark to have a good excuse to be out of bed before 9am on a Saturday morning that he doesn't work.

She covers her mouth as she yawns, slipping out of her bedroom and hearing something in the kitchen. She gets her hopes up a little bit thinking that Mark is in the kitchen making breakfast, but she is surprised by Archer in her kitchen in only his boxers and a white t-shirt. She crosses the kitchen and wraps her arms around her brother from behind, much like she would Mark.

"Good morning, Brother," she says sleepily.

"Lazy bones decided to get up," Archer muses teasingly. Turning on his heel, he smirks, her fingers dragging across his abdomen at his sudden movement. She lifts her hands and drags her fingers through his graying hair even though it's mostly unnoticable through the blonde locks. "I'm still on New York time. And you're wearing your boyfriend's clothes from last night."

"Oh my god," she grumbles with a sigh, "shut up, Archer. My house, I can wear whatever I want."

"And I appreciate you putting on some clothes," he grins. He tucks her hair behind her ear and presses his lips to her forehead, a small chuckle eliciting against her skin. He turns back to the bacon on the stove when it pops. "Speaking of, where is your boyfriend?"

She sighs and leans back against the sink, "I don't know. And he's not my boyfriend. Stop saying that."

"Seems like your boyfriend." Archer smirks and lifts an eyebrow inquisitively. She reaches up into the cabinet beside him for some glasses and sets them on the counter. She can't wait to hear what he says next. "I'm just saying, Addie. He gets you and he really knows how to rile Bizzy up. He's almost perfect for you."

"Almost?"

"He's dad. He's me," Archer says, "he doesn't know how to settle down. You don't want to be with guys like us. You want guys like Derek. A guy who wants kids and a family and really knows how to charm you. Don't get me wrong, Mark's a pretty charming guy - no where near as charming as I am - but he has his moments. I know guys like him; he only wants what he can't have and once he has you, he'll leave you."

"Archer," she says breathlessly.

"I know you don't want to hear it, Addie, but someone has to give it to you straight," Archer informs.

"Maybe he isn't like you or dad," she challenges. She reaches into the fridge and grabs the orange juice, pouring two glasses three-quarter of the way full. Pushing one across the counter her brother's way, she lifts the other to her lips. "Did you ever think of that?"

"We're all the same, Sis. We don't ever get any better. We just get worse."

"Speak for yourself," she counters.

"You're my little sister and I love you, but it's my job as you big brother to tell you things that you don't want to hear," he cracks an egg and it sizzles in the pan, "I'm only trying to protect you because I don't want to see you hurt."

"With all due respect, Archie, you haven't had to see me hurt in a very long time and the only person who has day in and day out is Mark," she points out. Her toes glide over the cold tile of the kitchen as she searches for some kind of warmth but is unsuccessful. She lifts a hand, lets her fingertips linger around her lips as the tips feel how dry and cracked they are; the room is too bright, the reminder of Christmas ever present. "I love you, honey, but it isn't really any of your business."

"Whatever you say," he replies absently with a smirk, "but if he walks out on you, don't come crying to me."

Her face falls and she stares at him hard, "you don't mean that."

"You're right, I don't mean that," Archer laughs, reaching behind him and tapping her shoulder. The front door opens as she shoves him back and Archer laughs at her. They both crane their necks to double check that it's Mark letting himself in and watch him brush the snow off of his shoulders. Archer winks at her real quick, "speak of the devil."

"Heh," Mark feigns laughter, "only good things I hope."

Mark smiles tightly as the wet soles of his shoes squeak against the tile and he crosses the room. He gives Archer a head nod and presses his lips against hers as he takes her glass of orange juice out of her hand. Her eyes briefly narrow in his direction, a grin sliding across his mouth.

She isn't sure what's changed between them since last night because the last she remembers he was less than pleased with her. She cross her arms in front of her chest, quirking an eyebrow. She absently licks her lips, "oh, you have no idea."

"My sister here was just telling me how big of a prick I am for not coming to see her sooner," Archer fibs.

Mark laughs and lightly shakes his head, setting the glass on the counter. He bounces his shoulder against Addison's, his fingertips brushing against hers for just a moment. He lightly shakes his head and disappears down the hallway towards the bathroom. He hears her feet echo down the hallway as she follows him.

"Where'd you go?" She asks innocently.

"I went out to get everything needed to make your mother those martini's she loves so much," he replies with a grin, turning smoothly so he can tap his finger against the tip of her nose, "I take it that you aren't mad at me anymore."

"I was just wondering where you were," she admits.

"Now you know," he replies with a smirk; "look, I'm sorry about yesterday. I'm just trying to make things a little bit easier for you."

"It's okay," she says.

She pushes herself on her tiptoes and presses her lips to his, caught a little off guard when his hands slide around her and he kisses her back. He smiles against her mouth, pleasantly surprised by her sudden actions like maybe they're moving passed whatever might have happened. He's pretty sure that the fight escalated from hours of her holding back and him just being awake; she stills when she hears Bizzy's voice in the kitchen and the sudden slam of the front door.

* * *

Addison's half asleep when she feels his fingertips slip beneath the hem of her shirt and smooth over her back. A shiver skates down her spine and when she finally peels her eye open she can't stop the corner of her mouth tugging upward into a sleepy smile. Even though it's dark, she can still see the outline of his face, the curves of his cheekbones and jaw, the way his teeth peek from between his slightly parted lips when he smiles.

His face looks tired but he's wide awake, his fingers bouncing against her flesh, but the way his soft fingertips drag over the expansion of her back makes her think he's trying to draw her to sleep. Her mother's presence has been looming over her all day, an uneasy feeling settling in the pit of Addison's stomach because she knew every move she made was being watched. Although her mother had made an effort to _stick up_for her the day before, Addison didn't believe that Bizzy was being genuine as much as she was being degrading.

Looking at Mark, she considers the fact that he's almost the only one who has always been genuine with her despite all of his flaws. Mark's moral compass isn't the same as Derek's and she's always been painfully aware of that; she remember back when they were in med school or even as interns how Mark's attention would be directed towards her or Derek all night and girls would still go home with him.

She briefly wonders if they didn't live together if he would be sleeping with other women; her thoughts are interrupted when she hears his voice echo, "sleepy?"

"I'm fine. You've been up longer than I have," she reasons.

"So," he replies with a grin, "I'm not that tired."

"But you are tired," she observes.

He lightly shakes his head, hair standing up from the static electricity, "nah, I could lay here forever."

"This is my favorite part of the day," she admits, attempting to stifle a yawn. Her eyes drift closed again as his bare chest rubs against her arm when he scoots closer; she's always in awe of the amount of heat that he exerts even when he has less clothes on. "Being all cozy and relaxed, no interruptions. There's just silence because everything and everyone else has gone to sleep."

"The world outside doesn't seem so busy when the sun goes down, does it?" He asks with a grin.

She smiles, "something like that."

"Today went a little better, right?"

"Are you kidding me?" She asks with a laugh, "she may not have jumped down your throat today, but she was asking me question after question, implying that whatever I am doing with my life isn't right."

"Nobody ever said that the Montgomery's were easy to please," he teases.

"Mark!" She screeches softly, her hand finds his cheek and rests there as her thumb feels for his smirk, "I'm glad you're here."

"Me too," he absently agrees, "even if your feet are like popsicles at night. Have you ever thought of wearing socks to bed?"

"Shut up," she says with a laugh.

He laughs, and then: "I love you."

She stops moving because he's said it a thousand times but she just doesn't know how to take it this time. She swallows, struggles to get herself together so she can say something in return. Words don't form so instead she says nothing. She tucks her head beneath his chin and snuggles into him, hoping that she hasn't completely scared him away.


	6. there's no such thing as sacred

**a/n (p1): mark and addison have never been together, addison and derek were married but aren't anymore, and there will be multiple ships in this but it is primarily mark/addison, some (okay, a lot or even _most_) of the history is different**

**a/n (p2): read anything by lynn ( sliceofperfection ) and you won't regret it; my personal fav is sick cycle carousal**

* * *

Meredith hasn't ever really seen what the dynamic of family looks like seeing as how she grew up with a less than attentive mother and an absent father. The part that baffles her is that her sister's childhood was practically perfect in comparison yet she's the one with the picture worthy life as an adult. She thinks that the best part of Lexie's adult life might just be having her sister around, or so Meredith hopes.

Lexie has had a hard life since they've met. Her mother died, their father went off of the deep end, and her sister (the one Meredith barely knows) hasn't really been in contact as of late. Meredith wants to argue that Lexie should try to patch the fallout between their dad but she knows that part of Lexie's problem is that she cares too much.

Although at first Meredith had difficulty connecting with Lexie, they eventually fell into the connection where she could comfortably call Lexie her sister and be proud about. Lexie wasn't just nice, she was also smart but she cares a little too much for her liking. She knows for sure that Zachary really loves having an Aunt Lexie, even though he has plenty of other aunts.

Meredith never thought she'd see the day that she wished she didn't have to go to work because it meant not being home with her kid. Now the entire day at work, she finds herself missing Zach and sneaks by the nursery to peek into the window; she knows better than to try to go in there because she wouldn't be able to leave. It definitely took her less time to become accustomed to the role of motherhood than she had initially thought.

Zachary's first Christmas consists of him being effectively entranced by the lights that Derek insisted be put up, even if it is at the last minute. Amelia is supposed to pick up her mother and sisters at the airport while Derek and Mark last minute put lights on the house. Meredith's surprise that Addison didn't accompany Mark (and somewhat her disappointment as well) was cleared when Mark slipped that her parents and brother are in town; Derek laughed at the predicament while Mark's jaw tensed.

And Meredith thought her family was bad.

Zachary's hands circle Meredith's index fingers as he bounces in laughter and she can't help laughing as he does. She silently hopes that Lexie arrives soon because if anyone she knows can make the inside of the house look picture perfect for Christmas, it's her. Besides, she's been missing her sister's presence a little bit since they moved.

"Mer!" She hears a voice that she was expecting and the front door close.

She smiles when she sees Cristina, "hey."

"Lexie's still in the car. I hope you have alcohol. I'm not drunk enough for this," Cristina rambles.

Meredith laughs. Okay, she's missed Cristina too. Zachary claps his hands together at the sight of his godmother.

"You could have waited until I put the car into park," Lexie calls when she comes in.

* * *

"So, the Montgomerys are in town?" Derek shouts from the ground as Mark puts the light strand on the house.

Mark laughs lightly in the back of his throat, "and they're just as overwhelming as ever."

"Do you know how long they'll be here?" Derek inquires.

"I have no idea," Mark answers with a light shake of his head, "hell, they didn't bother to let anyone know they were going to be here until they were here."

"Sounds just like them. So do they know?"

"Know what?" Mark retorts, teetering on whether to play stupid or to be snarky. Either way, he's pretty sure that he doesn't exactly know how to answer any of the questions. He tosses a glance over his shoulder and grins, "that I'm sleeping with their daughter? I'm pretty sure they recounted everything I've ever done wrong in my life and remind me that I am in no way good enough for her."

"Eh, well," Derek comments with a sly grin, "Addison's too good for them."

"Archer was cooking breakfast in my kitchen yesterday morning. Wearing only his boxers," Mark says with slight disgust. He sighs and steps down the ladder to move it over more. He turns and lightly shakes his head again. "I'm pretty sure they still haven't learned boundaries. Might I add that they drank all of my scotch while telling me how horrid it was?"

"I didn't think they had standards when it came to alcohol," Derek muses. Mark climbs back up the ladder and reaches for the strand of lights, looking over their job so far and wondering how much they have left to do. Derek plugs in the next strand and the snow lights up with illumination. "So, I take it you won't be making it for Christmas..."

Mark sighs, "I can probably make it, not too sure if Addison will be able to sneak away."

"It's weird. We still haven't had a single Christmas without her."

"You can always extend the invitation, you know," Mark says teasingly.

Derek rolls his eyes, "oh goodie. Just what I want to be scrutinized by Addison's parents again."

"For old time's sake?" Mark asks with a grin.

"Yeah," Derek snorts, his laughter stifled with the slap of his gloves as he rubs his hands together for warmth. He lifts his hands to his mouth and breathes in hopes to capture that warmth inside of his gloves so his fingers will keep from stiffening. "I can't wait."

Mark smirks, "why do you always wait until the last minute to decorate for Christmas? You did it when we were kids. You did it when we lived in New York. You've been doing it for as long as I can remember."

"It isn't easy being the man of the house since you're nine," Derek replies easily; Mark's muscles tense in response and only find comfort in easing when Derek's lips slide into a smile.

"You have to quit playing that card, man. It's mean," Mark retorts with a light shake of the head. He releases a breath, smoke circling his lips as the warmth of his breath collides with the cool air, and he steps down the ladder. His feet crunch the snow below and he silently hopes the tread on his soles grab at something that has a hold. Mark pushes his hands into his hips and bends his knee, "switch. I have to ask you something."

"Shoot," Derek immediately replies; he moves the ladder over and climbs up it, extending his hand out for the strand of lights.

"Addison and I - do you think it's going to last?"

Derek's lips form a circle as he glances over his shoulder, "does these mean you talked to her?"

"Kind of, I mean, I don't think it went quite how I thought it would," Mark admits. Derek stares at him, eyebrows lifted on his forehead suggesting that his childhood friend should continue. Mark huffs and drags a gloved hand through his hair, his watch catching his sleeve before it can expose the skin of his wrist. "I told her I loved her and she didn't say anything."

"Okay, and?" Derek pries.

Mark's face doesn't budge and he stares at Derek, deadpanned; "how many times did you tell her that you loved her and she didn't say it back? In all of that time you were married - I bet you can't even count them on one hand."

"That's diff-" Derek stops talking at Mark's look and concedes. He gulps and returns back to his task at hand. "Still, you can't judge the relationship we had on the one you have. I don't think that's very fair."

"She said something that makes me think she might just be having sex with me because she can," Mark argues gently. His tone doesn't emit sadness, just one of admission, like it's been on his mind. He shrugs absently and forces a smile on his face before Derek can catch him without it. "I just don't think we're going to be doing what we've been doing much longer. Besides, there's still no baby. Maybe it's for the best."

"Maybe," Derek says neutrally.

* * *

Mason's had a tough year and all Charlotte wants for him is to be happy. She always thought Christmas was supposed to be a happy time, but Mason's been anything but thrilled. She understands why though. When her daddy died a few years ago, she had a difficult time being happy so she understands; Mason started the year with his mom and is ending it without her.

Throughout it all, Mason has been strong and barely shed any tears. In fact, he's even been fairly happy, but now that Christmas is here he can't be. She offers him small, reassuring smiles but he doesn't pay much attention to them. He certainly hasn't opened up to Cooper.

She hovers in his doorway at night, watches him sleep as the Christmas lights glow right outside of his window. She got him a few good presents, things that he'd said he wanted but never admitted. She just hopes that soon enough she'll get to see a smile on his face again.

Charlotte feels Cooper lean against the doorframe behind her and she takes the opportunity to settle back against him; maybe everything isn't okay right now, but they will be.

* * *

Teddy offers Henry a reassuring smile from the seat beside him, the large space of the airport echoing with every footstep that passes and every hushed voice around them. He smiles weakly, reaching over and covering her hand with his own. If he's honest, he hasn't been feeling well lately but it'll pass. It always passes so there's no use in paying it too much attention.

He's hot and cold at the same time, but winter is always like that. He needs to shape up because he's about to travel halfway around the world to meet his wife's parents for the first time. He breathes in a steady bout of air, letting his eyes trace a pattern of cracks on the floor.

Teddy checks her watch and returns her gaze to Henry, "are you nervous?"

"Not really," Henry says with a small laugh, "parents generally like me."

"Of course they do," she agrees with a grin. Who doesn't like Henry? He's a genuine guy and he managed to win her over without trying too hard. She feels his hand squeeze in hers. She tilts her head, "you're charming. It's very hard not to like you."

"That's right, it seemed to work on you," he agrees teasingly; he closes the space between them and lightly presses his lips against hers.

His chest only hurts a little bit; he's going to make it after all.

* * *

Addison listens as her brother's words jumble together like his tongue is numb and she lightly shakes her head because this isn't really what she had in mind. There are 3 drunk Montgomery's in her apartment and she almost can't even handle it anymore. She's been doing everything she can not to become her parents and looking at them all sip on their alcoholic beverages and talk about shit that doesn't really matter makes her glad.

There used to be a time that her brother was her world because he was there for her even when their parents weren't, but now he's becoming them. As Archer pushes himself to his feet and carries himself into the kitchen, she can't help but follow closely behind him. She doesn't mean to be so angry, forceful, but her family is driving her crazy and Archer is the only one she can take it out on.

"What the hell are you doing?" She asks him just above a whisper, voice releasing the anger that she's been trying to mask.

"I'm having another drink," Archer explains with a smirk.

She releases an exasperated sigh and tucks her hair behind her ear; for a moment, she thinks she ripped some hair out. She shakes her head, digging her fingers into her hip as she leans against the counter beside Archer. She leans down to try to meet his eyes. "You are turning into our parents. You said you didn't want to be like them when you grew up."

"Newsflash, Addie, we are them. I fuck everything that walks and you're all prim and proper," Archer replies with a laugh, "there's no way to avoid it. Just because you started fucking men beneath you doesn't mean that you aren't them."

"Excuse me, but Mark's family has money since that's what you define as _beneath_ us and Derek does perfectly all right for himself considering where he came from. Not to mention, his mother did everything she could to make sure they all had a life worth living," Addison refutes.

"Save the speech, Addie. I've heard it thousands of times. Derek's mom raised them all to be successful doctors all by themselves and Mark practically raised himself," he counters. He perches the glass between his lips and gulps the entire glass down, refilling it by the time it hits the counter. He laughs bitterly, "I think sometimes you forget that they were my friends too."

"Were, meaning past tense. You left as soon as you could, telling me that you didn't want to become our parents, but look at you. You drink more than The Captain and you're more judgmental than Bizzy."

"Addison, don't you get it, we aren't cut out to be anything but them. I've spent my entire career traveling around the world trying to prove that I am better than them, that I'm not them. I've spent time in Africa, in South America, volunteering in third world countries so I don't become them, but at the end of it all I always feel the same. The dirt poor never leaves me no matter how many times I shower and I can't get the smell of blood out of my hands," Archer snaps. He narrows his eyes in her direction, lightly shaking his head. He shakes angrily as he lifts his glass, throwing it across the kitchen. "I'm beginning to realize it's so much easier to be like them than to prove that I'm not."

"You seem to do fine until you get around them, and I am so disappointed in you for that," she counters; turning on her heel, she reaches for the roll of papers towels to clean up his mess.

He lightly shakes his head, "like you seem to do any better."

"I'd rather be a little girl than an asshole," she spats.

"Whatever you say, Sis," he replies with a laugh.

He turns on his heel, goes in the opposite direction and makes damn sure to slam the door behind him. She tries to hold in the tears, sucking in a deep breath to stifle her emotions and keep them from falling out. She can't reflect her feelings on her face because the moment Bizzy comes in, she'll never hear the end of it for making Archer leave.

Everything is her fault; everything is always her fault.

* * *

"This is the last time," Amelia mutters into Alex's shoulder, "after this, we can't do this anymore. I need to get my life together."

"Okay," Alex mumbles. He feels her grab the hair at the back of his head and tug, his head nearly snapping at the neck. He smirks as her mouth falls open; he likes how rough she is because most of the women he's been with want it gentle and to have feelings. He thinks that's probably why he likes her more than any other woman he's met. "Tell me what you want."

"Don't play games, Alex," she replies with her own grin, "I don't have time. My family could walk in at any second and then you'll have to jump out of the window naked."

"But it's cold outside," he reasons.

She mutters as she closes her mouth over his, "better get the job done then."

He presses her harder against the wall, his ribs digging into hers, and it traps her hand between them. Her fingernails scrape against his waist as she tries to resume unbuttoning his pants. Finally, she pushes at his stomach so he releases some of the pressure and she can unbutton his pants.

She pushes him hard enough so the back of his knees hit the bed and she's tugging on his pants. He likes how fast things go with her, how she doen't bullshit and goes for exactly what he wants. The only thing he hates is how things are over nearly as quickly as they started, but then again, it's probably only because he's usually begging for it to be like that.

He laughs when she straddles his waist and finds that she's ready to go. She direct and quick to give what she wants. He's used to women playing games, and he hates it. He pushes his fingers into her hips as she sinks onto him; he knows that it's almost over because it usually doesn't take long.

He almost takes that as a compliment that she doesn't take long to get there. Her hand closes over his mouth and it's only then that he realizes maybe he was being a little too loud. He reaches up and wraps his hand around the back of her neck, pulling her down so he can press his lips to hers. In his experience, best way to muffle the noises.

* * *

Derek narrows his eyes from his place in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room as he sees Alex come down the stairs. He hears footsteps just above him through all of the conversations in the room and he lightly shakes his head as he prepares himself to let his sister know that she can't keep doing this at family gatherings. He stops himself when he sees Addison slip out onto the back porch out of the corner of his eye.

He ultimately decides to offer Amelia a warning glance as she descends the stairs before he follows Addison, making sure the door is shut behind him so the cold air doesn't get in. Neither one of them says anything at first, just that old familiar silence that used to exist between them in the old days before everything about the other person pissed them off. He thinks the best decision they made was to end their marriage before they hated each other and could no longer be friends.

He sits in the chair beside her while she leans against the railing, giving her the opportunity to speak first. He knows her well enough to know that when she wants to talk she will, but still sometimes she wants to be asked. She knows that he has no obligation to her anymore so he's only here because he wants to be.

"Thanks for inviting me," she says, barely audible.

"I'm sorry that your parents couldn't make it," he replies gently.

She can't help the laugh that falls out of her mouth, "no you're not. You hate them and they hate everyone who isn't them."

"Still," Derek says, "I'm sorry because I know it meant a lot to you that they were even here."

"They hate everything about me, Derek. They hate that I was married to you. They hate that I have anything to do with Mark. They think that I'm so much better than you when we all work just as hard. I don't blame you for hating them," she says; she releases a sigh, her breath carried in a cloud of frost through the sky. She turns a her gaze in Derek's direction, eyes glazed over with fresh tears. "Mark hates them. Hell, even I hate them."

"Mark doesn't hate them," Derek corrects, "Mark doesn't hate anyone. He hates the way they treat you, how every time they leave you hate yourself, that you're never happy when they're around, but he doesn't hate them."

"He's better than we are, isn't he?" She asks Derek.

Derek smiles his agreement in a way, the same way that he used to; "he doesn't judge and he helps the best he can. He's a great listener but not very good at talking."

"I love him, Derek, I really do but he's my best friend," she says. She turns her eyes back the view, the one she could never appreciate when they were married. She feels like she never gave anything a real chance, but they've all moved on now so it's too late. "What if we try and it doesn't work? What if we go all in and we hurt each other and then I don't have him anymore?"

"But what if you don't?"

"What if we do? What if he becomes distant? What if I become bored? What if we can't have kids? What if he cheats on me? What if I cheat on him? What if we can't repair the damages we make?" She narrows her eyes, the wind blowing through her hair , "what if he falls in love with someone else?"

"He's never going to love anybody else unless you let him," Derek leans further back in his chair. He offers her a small smile, reaching out and clasping her frozen hand in his own. His hand isn't much warmer, but he hopes that maybe he can offer hers some warmth. "He doesn't fall in love easily."

"I know, but it shouldn't feel so complicated, should it? Shouldn't it just feel easy?"

"No relationship is easy, honey," Derek replies with ease, "if they were, we'd still be married and in love with each other instead of other people."

She teasingly points a finger at him, "hey, I never said I was in love with him."

"But he said he was in love with you."

"I don't even know what he meant by that," she replies with a laugh, "that's ninety percent of the problem."

"You know he just says what he means. Don't read too much into it," Derek replies, pushing himself onto his feet. He offers her a smile as he leans forward and presses his lips against her temple. He lets go of her hand, silently hoping that she agrees to come inside. "Meanwhile, your sister keeps sneaking off into bedrooms to play with Alex Karev."

"My sister? No way, she's all yours," Addison replies with a laugh.

He chuckles, "she's always my sister when she's bad. Coming inside?"

"In a few minutes," she replies softly.

She leans against the rail and looks out at the moon, watching the snowflakes lightly fall to the ground. She thinks she's been losing control of her life for awhile, not sure where it's going or what she wants. Three months ago she just wanted to be a mom and now she kind of wants to be a family, but she doesn't think she can give anyone a family; after months of hormones and trying to conceive and still not having a baby, she's beginning to wonder her ability.

She could always go to the doctor, but truthfully she's been avoiding Jake since she started sleeping with Mark. She doesn't exactly know why. Maybe because they were trying to pretend like the only reason it was happening is because they wanted a baby and she didn't want to tell anyone. The only person there was no way she'd be able to hide it from was Jake.

It isn't like it was really anyone's business. Mark was _her_ friend, her _roommate_, and nobody's boyfriend. Hell, she couldn't even remember the last time that either of them went on a date. For her, she knows it's been almost a year. The last date Mark went on was Lexie but he was more annoyed with her presence than anything else.

She considers asking him when she hears the door slide open behind her. She tosses a glance over her shoulder, just enough time to see who it is before shifting her gaze back to the sky. A shiver skates down her spine at the sound of his heavy heels echoing on the frozen wood.

"Want some company?" He asks as he clears his voice.

She shrugs, "if you want."

"Your parents left, huh?" He asks gently. He drapes his jacket over her shoulders and stuffs his hands into his pockets, leaning back against the rail for support. He offers her a small smile in hopes that it will reassure her. She nods dismissively and almost understands that it's her fault things never work out. "Well, if it's any consolation, I'm not going anywhere."

"Never say never," she replies with a smirk. She pushes herself upright and steps into him, feeling the urge to be closer to him and feel his warmth. She slides her arms through his and wraps them around his torso, feeling comforted when he returns the favor. "You're one of the good ones, you know?"

"I'm not," he refutes but smiles anyway, "I'm just better because I have you."

And it almost feels like her Mark, the Mark she's know for her entire adult life and gotten kicked out of class in college for talking to him even after telling him to shut up for the first half. It feels like the Mark she used to fall asleep with on the couch while Derek was at work and Derek would only smirk and wake them up and call them sleepyheads. It feels like the Mark that would press his lips against hers and tell her that any guy would be lucky to have her.

And she's scared because she doesn't know if he can be both Mark's at the same time.

But when he pulls back and tilts her chin upward, it doesn't keep her from meeting his mouth with her own as she finds the comfort in both versions of Mark at the same time.

* * *

Addison has her heels off by the time the elevator stops at her floor, but she can't help the sigh that she releases as the doors slide open to reveal her brother leaning against her apartment door. She shakes her head as she walks down the hallway, kicking her brother's thigh. She watches his eyes pop open and at the sight of her gives a lazy smile.

"Hey, you're back," he comments; he pushes himself to his feet.

"How long have you been out here?" She asks, sliding her key into the lock to pop the door open. He leans heavily against the doorframe until the door opens and he slips in before her. "You look like shit."

"And you look beautiful as always," Archer says with a smirk.

She sighs, "Archer, don't. I thought you left with Bizzy and The Captain."

"No, they left me here per my request," he says. He heads to the kitchen and when she lifts her eyebrow he stops reaching for the vodka. He stares at her for a long minute. "Where's your boyfriend?"

"Parking the car," she replies flately, "but you aren't here to talk about him, are you?"

"No," he says absently. He drops his hand to the countertop and traces lines in the marble as he tries to keep his eyes off of hers. He releases a heavy-hearted sigh and lifts his eyes back to hers. "Merry Christmas."

"You aren't here to tell me that. You could have called or sent a text if that's what you wanted to say," she counters.

"I ruined your Christmas, Addie, and I didn't mean to. You're the most important person in my life-"

She laughs, "I'm barely in your life anymore, Archer. You never stay."

"I'm staying now. I don't want to be a disappoinment for you," he counters, "I want to be someone you're proud of. I don't want you to hate me too."

"Fine," she replies with a light shake of the head, "but tonight we sleep."

He nods as she leads him towards Mark's bedroom door and they go to their separate rooms. She hears the bedroom door close behind her after a few moments and she turns to look at Mark over her shoulder. He pulls his navy sweater off over his head and tosses it into the pile on the floor.

"Unzip me?" She asks.

"Sure," he replies tiredly. He crosses the room and unzips her dress, his cold fingers grazing her back just between her shoulder blades. He moves to the other side of the bed and drops his pants to the floor. "You looked nice tonight."

"Thanks," she says with a small smile, "Archer's in your bed."

"He didn't leave?"

"No, I think he's really going to try this time," she replies. She pulls on his sweater and goes over to the bed, She looks at him as she grabs the sheet and lifts it in preparation for her to get into the bed, thinking of all of the things that's been holding her back. "I don't want to lose you."

"You won't," he replies immediately. He lightly tilts his head and stares at her, knowing what she's getting at. He laughs a little into the burrows of his throat. "I think I should sleep on the couch."

She swallows, lifts her head to scratch her eyebrow; "I think that that would be for the best."

He smiles and nods, walking around the side of the bed and pressing his lips into her temple before he leaves the room. She doesn't want to lose her friend Mark, doesn't want everything to go down hill. She'll do everything she can to keep from losing him completely and this is the only way she knows how.


	7. but this is the end of everything

**a/n (p1): i started this fic about two years ago and i think i am just now able to write it**

**a/n (p2): read anything by lynn ( sliceofperfection ) and you won't regret it; my personal fav is sick cycle carousal **

* * *

They've been dancing around each other in a way that lingers everywhere either of them goes; he does everything he can not to accidentally brush against her, his fingertips tremble as he feels the warmth coming off of her skin, and she does everything she can not to say something that she'll regret. She's pretty sure he walks around shirtless just to see how much he gets to her, so she yanks his chain right back and conveniently forgets to put on pants. Their dance has been close to coming to a full stop, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of her t-shirt in the early mornings or late nights as he touches her hips, until Archer makes his presence known.

She welcomes the interruption that keeps them from falling into something that's familiar and Mark silently apologizes with a smirk. Their conversations are selective, limited to work and neutral territory, but that doesn't keep them from reading each other like they've been doing for the last 20 years. It hasn't even been a week, but everything between them seems off-kilter.

Mark continues to let Archer sleep in his room, not discussing whatever happened that sent him to the couch because some things are better left unsaid. Archer is still overbearing when calling Mark her boyfriend and Addison just takes it in strides because she knows Archer isn't stupid, he's just trying to get under her skin. Usually Archer succeeds, but Mark's side glance often sends her into a frenzy that makes her retreat to her bedroom. She welcomes the peace that she receives at the hospital.

When he sleeps at night, he pushes his back against the couch and hugs a pillow to his chest. He spends more time tossing and turning than he does actually sleeping. It's beginning to wear on him, darkened circles under his eyes and cheekbones hugging his jaw from lack of sleep, and he doesn't have a way to hide it.

What he doesn't know is that for the last 5 nights, Addison has been sleeping in the middle of her bed tossing and turning much like him. She can hear his slightly exasperated sighs from the living room as he punches his pillow in an attempt to fluff it, his groans of dissatisfaction as he stands up and stretches, and the way his feet pad against the wooden floor on the way to the bathroom. She feels bad for him, sometimes even peeking out into the hallway as he makes his way back to the couch just to be sure that he's really okay; the words catch in her throat and she isn't able to say anything to him.

They've done a fairly good job at avoiding each other, if she does say so herself, but the moments that they do stumble into each other's presence their silence is filled with lingering stares and words neither of them will say. She misses her friend, to say the least. She's doing her damnedest not to think of the moments that he was buried so deep inside of her, whispering her words of reassurance just like he always has.

Tears line her eyes because she misses her best friend and that's what compels her to get out of bed and tip toe out into the living room to be engulfed in the still darkness. The air is colder and the silence is more haunting, but she's well aware with where every piece of furniture lies and where the creaks are in the floorboards.

She sees the orbs of his eyes shine in the darkness, the reflection of the street lights sneaking in through the blinds. The room is illuminated with the clock on the microwave, the light for the ice maker on the refrigerator, and the television playing the sports highlights. His skin is a yellowish glow and his hand is balled into a fist, his knuckles all bone as his upper arm flexes naturally.

His eyes shift from the television to her, and she shivers beneath his gaze. The feel of his eyes on her warms her and chills her at the same time; it prompts her to hug herself, surrounded in a button up dress shirt that he'd left in her room over the past few months. The material is light and doesn't offer much of a warming effect, but it's merely the idea that counts.

He stares at her, eyes soft and gentle, but he doesn't say anything. He challenges her to break the silence, offer some kind of words of insight into her narrowed gaze and the chill skating up her spine. She refuses to be the one to break the silence, but is moved when he sits up to make room for her on the couch.

As if on autopilot, she sits down beside him. She reaches for his arm and hugs it to her chest, leaning against his side as he slides the blanket over to cover her. Her temple rests against his shoulder as she feels his fingers thread with hers, the webs between his fingers seemingly latching to hers as he squeezes her hand.

She swallows and turns her head so her chin rests on his shoulder, her eyes tracing his features. She knows him without looking at him. She knows his presence, the way he feels, the way he smells, and even the way that he tastes. She isn't sure she can keep going without him because just 5 days has felt like months. A lone tear slides down her cheek and collides with his bare shoulder.

"Honey, what's wrong?" He asks, barely above a whisper.

She smiles under his gaze, glad that he's broken the silence and asked what's wrong; it lifts a weight off of her shoulders, making her feel like she can actually tell him, "I just miss you."

He offers her a small smile, takes his hand from hers and wraps his arm around her shoulders to pull her against him; "I told you that you won't lose me."

"The silence is killing me," she admits.

He presses his lips against her temple, his lips tugged upward into a smile against her skin. He rests his forehead against her, her fingertips sliding over his torso to wrap around his waist. He shivers as her cold hands press against his skin, the sharp breath that he inhales slicing over her neck.

"Me too," he finally says.

His nose slides over her jaw as his fingers tuck beneath her chin, the silence and the warmth leading her towards the need to feel him against her. His breath trickles over her skin as his mouth lowers to hers, their mouths meeting in the darkness as though it's second nature. His gray eyes close as her mouth opens beneath his and her tongue darts out to slide against his bottom lip.

Her fingers grasp at his sides, nails digging in to his ribs in a way that prompts him to push his chest in her direction. His fingers slide into her hair, the pads pressing into the nape of her neck as her silky smooth hair slides over the back of his hand. His tongue touches hers and nothing makes him pull back despite his best efforts.

A few moments of her lips bruising his and vice versa before she rips her lips from his and drags them down his neck, her mouth forming an 'o' at his Adam's Apple. She slides her tongue against his stubble, his 5 o'clock shadow scratching her tongue, and absently sucks on his skin. She needs him so much closer.

He releases a groan and his hands tug on her body, pulling her down in his direction as he pushes himself up to hover over her. His hips settle between her legs, the waistband of his boxers sliding against her inner thighs with the movement, and he buries his face into the crook of her neck. She feels his hands slip beneath her shirt and slide around her waist as he attempts to slip between her and the couch.

She feels erection press against the back of her leg but he isn't really doing anything to take care of it; "Mark, will you just - I don't want to miss you so much."

"I know," he replies. His hand presses into her stomach as he pulls her closer. He smiles and drops his mouth into the slightly exposed skin between her neck and shoulder. "I'm here though, Red."

* * *

The morning started with Mark's lips on hers, his hand snaking into the front of her pants despite the agreement between them that they probably shouldn't. Before it could get much further than it really should, luckily, her brother announced his presence. Scrambling to appear decent, she fumbled with the button of her dress shirt as Mark smirked.

However when she was getting dressed for the New Year's Eve party, she caught sight of a few marks that he left along her breasts and cleavage. Her base managed to cover them up, at least making her skin a little better to expose so she didn't have to find another dress to wear instead. She fixed herself and followed Mark and Archer out of the door to make an appearance at the hospital benefit that was being hosted - the special guests being the police force and the mayor.

It was a requirement that the hospital staff at least make an appearance. But now, she can feel Mark's eyes on her, watching her every move and drinking in the way her blue dress hugs her in all of the right ways. She can see on his face the way that she's driving him crazy, despite the fact that she isn't meaning to, and she offers him a slightly apologetic smile from across the room. Callie catches Mark by the arm and leads him onto the dance floor; Addison feels like she can breathe for the first time that evening because his eyes are forced somewhere else.

Archer comes up beside her and bumps his hip into hers, "the bartender needs a lesson."

"Did he not mix your martini properly?" She chastises.

"Something like that," Archer comments.

"At least you didn't pay for it," Addison counters, "it could be worse."

"Nothing is worse than cheap alcohol," he says as a reminder. He downs the rest of his glass and signals a waiter for another drink. He doesn't offer his sister a second glance until the waiter stops beside him. "Did you want another, Sis?"

"Absolutely," she replies with a tight smile, "please refrain from being embarrassing."

"It's my job to embarrass you. Loosen up," Archer adds.

She takes a sip of her drink, "I love you, Archie, but how much longer are you going to be here?"

"Interested in continuing to play house with your boyfriend?" He asks with a laugh.

"For the last time," she starts, eyes burning holes into him, "he is not my boyfriend."

Archer laughs, "please, he turns you into a school girl. You didn't even come home with hickeys when you were in high school."

"Guys weren't interested in me when I was in high school," she counters before she lowers her voice, "and do you have to say it so loud? Not everyone needs to know."

"Look at you," Archer says with a laugh, reaching out and touching her jaw, "you're like a lovesick teenager. You weren't even this way with Derek. It's cute, but not for you."

"Oh, get off your high horse," she retorts, hand smacking him in the chest.

Archer laughs in response, that shrill mocking laughter that reveals his amusement that's always annoyed her more than anything else. She thinks she gets so annoyed by it because he's always been the one person she's been able to count on to be on her side. She narrows his eyes in his direction as a warning but he doesn't even pay attention to it, just reaches out and catches her by the wrist.

"Have I hit a nerve?" Archer teases.

"Shut up," she replies warningly.

She catches Callie's eye in the distance and motions to her brother, silently pleading her friend for help. Callie laughs and shakes her head, tugging on Mark's sleeve as she steps out of his grasp to make her way towards the siblings. Addison releases a sigh of relief at the sight of them approaching her and she can only imagine the kind of torture that Callie will put Archer under.

Callie winks at Addison grabs Archer by the forearm, "come on, big boy, you're with me."

Archer follows her lead obligingly, leaving Addison alone with Mark for the first time since they walked in the door. Mark grins at her, taking her drink from her hand sipping from it. She drags a hand through her hair to busy her hands, to keep herself from reaching out to touch him.

"Your brother driving you crazy?" Mark asks teasingly.

"I don't think that even begins to describe it," she admits, "he's incessant."

"When is he leaving?"

She sighs, "I don't know yet. I bet you miss your bed."

"It _is_ more comfortable than the couch," he says.

He steals her away to the dance floor and their metaphorical dance becomes an actual one as he leads her, something that he's always been able to do when Derek hasn't. She excuses herself to use the restroom and he lets her go, her steps quicker than his reaction. Her heels echo on the floor and he can still hear it through the music.

She bumps into someone as they leave the men's restroom and she tries to enter the women's, offering her sincerest apology. He smiles before he says anything, his eyes locking on hers for a longer period of time than she knows what to do with. She shuffles her feet beneath her, silently acknowledging that it would be rather rude of her to just walk away before he says anything.

"Oh," he finally says, "I'm sorry. I should watch where I'm going."

"No, no," she insists, "it's my fault."

He laughs and drops his gaze from hers, the skin beside his eyes crinkling with his smile, "my name is Kevin."

"Addison," she says, reaching out and taking his proffered hand, "I was actually just on my way to the restroom."

* * *

Mark's eyebrows furrow when he catches sight of Addison talking to someone at the open bar and he wonders what she could possibly be talking to the stranger about. He tries to read the lips from across the room at their table, but the skill he'd once had is failing him now. He squints a little more but is only able to make out the shape her mouth makes right before she laughs.

He glances at the amber liquid in his glass and decides that he needs a refill despite his glass being half full (or empty, depending on the person). He downs the remainder of his glass and pushes himself to his feet to make his way across the room for more scotch. He nods his head at Derek, his jaw tightened in question as he makes a quick motion in Addison's direction, and his best friend is able to detect their silent language from when they are kids.

Derek's gaze follows the direction in which Mark's eyes are trained and sees what Mark sees. Knowing what Mark is wondering, Derek slips away from his conversation on the other side of the room and heads towards the bar as well thinking that Mark might need some back up. Derek drops his nearly empty glass off on a random table.

Mark slides up to the bar behind Addison and motions to the bartender to refill his scotch; Derek's elbow hits Mark's as Derek squeezes in and gives him the two finger motion. Mark points his ear in the direction of Addison's conversation, overhearing a seemingly innocent conversation. He and Derek trade glances anyway.

He feels Addison's hand reach out and touch his sleeve to get his attention, "this is my friend, Mark." Mark scowls for a moment before turning his attention to the pair, holding off on taking a long swig of his drink despite his desperate need for a distraction from the conversation. Mark forces a smile and extends his free hand, clasping his glass tighter with his left. "And this is Kevin. He's a police officer."

"Actually, we live together," Mark corrects, "have you ever been shot?"

Kevin laughs but Addison shoots him a warning glance. Mark shrugs absently as he takes a sip of his drink, knowing that later on he'll have to explain his actions and will probably end up blaming it on the alcohol. Derek nudges him in the back as he slides around him.

"I'm Derek. I'm the ex-husband," Derek adds, tossing a smirk towards Mark, "nice to meet you."

Addison's mouth drops open for just a moment before she forces a quick recovery. Mark leans in her direction, elbow stretching out to touch the countertop as his chest lightly touches her back just a bit. She slams her elbow into his sternum as he reaches forward, letting his fingertips trail over the exposed skin at the small of her back.

He gasps for air, muttering, "Jesus, Addison."

Derek furrows his eyebrows and turns his gaze towards Kevin, "what's your division? I'm a neurosurgeon. I might have helped save a few guys in your division."

"Oh, uh," Kevin starts.

"This guy," Mark interrupts, motioning towards Derek, "he always takes an opportunity to boast about all of his good doings in his profession. He's more than just a surgeon. He's world class."

"Good to know," Kevin acknowledges with a grin.

"Hey, Sis, what's going on here?" Archer asks as he leans against the counter behind Kevin. Addison rolls her eyes knowing that she won't get a word in now that her brother has appeared, not that she was getting anything in before he showed up. Archer's attention turns towards his glass as the bartender trades out his empty one for a full one before he sees Mark and smirks. "Your boyfriend doesn't look too happy."

"Wow," she says to Archer; she catches eyes with Kevin and mouths an apology that he catches while trying to tune in to everything that's being said. She shivers when the back of Mark's hand slides down her spine, her jaw tightening in her attempt to keep a straight face. She sighs and reaches behind her to smack Mark in the stomach but hits him a little lower; he groans and doubles over. "Oh my god, Mark, I am so sorry."

Mark tries to keep from hitting the floor, his glass nearly slipping from between his fingers; he offers her a tight smile, still unable to regulate his breathing, "I can't."

Her hand covers her mouth as she turns to tuck an arm around his waist to help keep him standing, the rest of the conversations going silent. Derek wraps his hand around Mark's elbow, helping him on the other side; they lead him to the nearest empty chair. He mutters incoherent words, his head feeling heavy on his shoulders.

She clearly hit him harder than she meant to.

"You okay, buddy?" Derek asks once Mark is sitting.

"Yeah," Mark replies hoarsely.

"I'm sorry, Mark."

"It's okay, Red," he replies, offering her a weak smile, "I guess we can say goodbye to that baby idea."

* * *

If she closes her eyes, she almost thinks that she's floating. At least that's what it feels like in the chilly air after excusing herself from the party and leaving all of the men from her past and present so they can't suffocate her anymore. Despite her guilt from hurting Mark, he offered her a tight smile and shooed her away insisting that he can take care of it. She's pretty sure he's beyond pissed and knows by now to give him his space when he is.

But when Kevin smiles it distracts her from the harsh reality she's created with her best friend by ultimately deciding to have sex. She wants nothing more than to become a mother but that dream will obviously have to be on hold since they've been trying for months without being successful. She misses Mark and they way their relationship was easy and natural with no thought put into it, they just were.

Now, they always get confused in the meaning and she doesn't want to be confused anymore.

Kevin's feet softly touch the ground with every step before he looks at her and smiles, "he isn't going to be mad, is he?"

"Who?" Addison asks, eyebrows furrowing in question.

"The guy you live with," Kevin vaguely elaborates.

She laughs a little, "the one that I hit on accident?"

"Yeah," he says, laughing a little too, "you know that's classified as assault if he wanted to press charges, right?"

"I've known him since we were in college. He had it coming," she challenges teasingly. Her eyes catch Kevin's for a brief moment before she feels her lips slide upward and has to look away. There's something about the way he looks at her that makes her want to trust him. She knows better than to think that her and Mark were really going anywhere, the way his eyes lingered on every woman with exposed cleavage made her feel cheap in the first place. "Why would he be mad?"

"Because you're here with me."

She lightly shakes her head, "contrary to what my brother said, it isn't like that between us. He's my roommate, my ex-husband's best friend, _my_ friend. The only thing he might be mad at me about is hitting him there."

"It doesn't feel good," Kevin absently agrees. He shoves his cold hand deeper into his pockets, glances ahead. He takes a wide step as they proceed forward. "I just, it seemed like it was more than that for him."

"We had this idea that we were going to have a baby together and we've been trying for months, it just hasn't happened. I'm ready to stop trying because it's killing me but he doesn't want to give up," she explains.

"Maybe he has something with not giving up," Kevin says, much to her surprise.

She blinks hard, twisting her hands in her coat pockets; "if I have a baby, who would want me? He isn't obligated to be with me and I'd just be this single mother, with a kid who is close friends with the father. What guy would want to be involved in that?"

"I don't know, I mean, some guys wouldn't mind," Kevin corrects. He offers her a smile that makes her feet shuffle beneath her and she starts lose her balance. He reaches out and catches her before she falls, his grasp firm on her elbow. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, thanks," she mutters.

"You're welcome," he says. She can feel his breath trail over her lips and the warmth creates a rush deep into the pits of her stomach, a familiar feeling that only happens with firsts and new people. She never had that with Mark - maybe it's because everything between them has always been comfortable and different than with anyone else. "Is it too late to change your mind about having a baby with him?"

"Not yet," she admits; she sighs and drags a hand througb her hair, "I think it's after midnight."

"Yeah," he replies breathlessly.

She closes the space between them and her mouth touches his, her hands shaking from the cold or her nerves. She isn't really sure, doesn't know what to blame her actions on. She sighs against his mouth, his fingers digging into her arm as his grasp tightens. She pulls back with a smile, hoping that it maybe isn't the last time.

* * *

Mark absently groans as he shifts the bag of ice on his crotch and finds an area that isn't numbed with the cold. After Addison left, Callie and Archer insisted that he go home and made sure he got there softly. He blinked a few times, saw stars, and when he opened his eyes again Archer was gone and Callie was standing there with a bag of ice.

He took it with a tired sigh and held it to his crotch while grasping the remote with his other hand. After moments of silence, he hears the front door open and those familiar heels step over the threshold. He tosses a non-committal glance over his shoulder as she peels off her coat and drops her purse onto the island counter.

"Hey, how are your balls feeling?" She asks, a bit of a tease laced in her voice.

He forces a laugh, "I think they'll make it."

"Did I really hit you that hard?" She feigns disbelief.

"Trust me, it's a lot easier to hurt a man when he has an erection," he counters, a light shake of his head. He watches her lean against the arm of the couch, the soles of her shoes still stuck with snow. He wonders how long she was walking out there, hopes she wasn't alone despite his twinge of jealousy. He offers her a slight smile, "I'll make a full recovery. Don't you worry about me."

"You deserved it, you know? You acted like an asshole to come over there and make me look like that in front of this guy that I just met," she says.

"What does that mean?"

She sighs, "it means that I was talking with this guy who was genuinely interested and interesting but you all nearly made me look like an idiot."

"I made you look like an idiot?" He asks with a laugh, "I'm pretty sure it's the other way around. I wasn't the one openly flirting with someone else while you watched on."

"Oh, please, Mark. You act like anything real between us would work with your wandering eyes," she scoffs.

He shakes his head, "it was real for me, Addison. I don't know what you thought I meant when I told you I love you, but you mean a lot to me. You always have."

"Maybe I'll mean more to you if we aren't fucking. Maybe I'll mean more to you if you're just my friend," she challenges.

"Maybe."


End file.
